Into the Shadows
by georgesgurl117
Summary: A fight between two of our favorite detectives leads to guilt when someone goes missing. Will the team be able to pull together and cooperate with each other and accept outside help in order to save one of their own? Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it ain't mine!

A/N: Special thanx to my beta--you're awesome! And to everyone else----Remember to Review!

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Olivia sat glumly at the bar, slowly nursing her beer and silently cursing her partner. Glancing around the room, she realized the place looked exactly how she felt today. The dim glow given off by the sparsely placed light fixtures only highlighted the dinginess of the walls and ceilings. It seemed as if the light served more to provide even more of a depressing atmosphere to the place, rather than illuminate it. The floor looked as though it hadn't been washed in months, even decades. On top of all that, cigarette smoke filled the air, giving the room a hazy appearance. As she observed the rest of the regulars, Olivia's mind went back to the incident that had significantly soured her day.

_ A mother had brought her 8-year-old daughter in, accusing her soon-to-be ex-husband of molesting their child. The man denied everything, claiming the woman would do anything to have full custody of the girl._

_ "The girl's reactions are those that would indicate sexual assault. I think she's telling the truth. I think we should bring the father in." Olivia stated, strolling back to her desk after talking to the little girl. Her remark received a nod of agreement from Munch, but had only drawn a blank stare from Elliot. After noticing the look on her partner's face, she quickly added, "If not to book him, maybe to get some straight answers outta him."_

_ "You really think he did it, don't you?" Elliot sneered. "You of all people should be able to see right through the mother's story, Olivia. That woman would do anything to get full custody of their child. Even if it meant brainwashing her own child!"_

_ "I agree she wants more than anything to have full custody, but only to protect her daughter from further abuse! Filing a false report would not only land her in jail, but also force the court to give her husband custody. She can't be dumb enough to risk all that!" Olivia couldn't believe Elliot was taking the father's side. Her gut told her he was guilty, and her gut was almost always right. Elliot should know that. "What's the matter with you? This doesn't have anything to do with your divorce, does it?"_

It had all gone south after that subject. Elliot had blown up like a land mine that Olivia had just stepped on. He ended up storming out of the station after their argument, either forgetting or just not caring that he had been Olivia's ride. Her car was in the shop, something to do with the transmission. Munch generously offered to take her to get something to eat before driving her home. They had driven around for ages searching for a place to eat before finally settling for the smoke-filled tavern, where they now sat munching on peanuts and religiously sipping their beers.

"You ready to go home?" Munch asked, politely. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He was tired. They all were tired. They had put in way too much overtime this past week. Hopefully, sleep would do them all some good. Especially Elliot. Maybe he would start thinking straight and see the error of his ways. Sometimes he could just be so thickheaded. It usually was one of the things she loved about him, but could also be frustrating when she was trying to get him to see things her way.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she responded, grateful that he wanted to leave. She wasn't one to complain, but the smoke-filled air was getting to her. She just wanted to go home and sleep for as long as possible. She offered to pay, but the offer was declined. If Munch wanted to do the gentlemanly thing, she wasn't going to make a fuss.

"Oop, excuse me for a moment. Mother Nature's calling me and I think I'd better answer. I've already pissed off too many women in my lifetime." Munch took off towards the restroom after paying the tab.

Olivia grabbed her jacket and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. The autumn weather was getting colder, and the biting wind whipped her hair into her face. It felt like snow. With any luck, it would stay away for a couple of weeks. She pulled her warm jacket tightly around herself and walked briskly toward Munch's car, hoping to get out of the stinging wind.

Suddenly, she felt a chill go up her spine. Not because of the weather, but because of the sound she had just heard. It sounded like someone crying for help. She peered into the dark alleyway, but couldn't see anything through the gloom. She waited letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, barely making out the figure of a woman lying on the ground. Olivia raced to the woman's side, finding a weak pulse. It was obvious that the woman had been raped and beaten. Her yellow blonde hair was full of blood and grime, as well as her entire face and body. Most of her clothes had been torn away, leaving the bruised and bloodied flesh exposed. Olivia took off her jacket and covered the barely lucid woman. To hell with the trace evidence, she needed this woman alive. Hopefully, she could avoid hypothermia and pneumonia. Olivia held the woman's hand, which was covered with defensive wounds. There was definitely tissue underneath her long nails.

_ Good. She fought back._ Olivia was proud of the woman already. It made her job that much easier with the DNA of the perp provided by a victim who really wanted to live.

"It's okay now. I'm here to help you. The ambulance will be here shortly, okay?" Olivia tried to comfort the young woman, as she dialed her cell phone. She reported her location to the dispatcher on the other end. She pocketed her cell, and again held the woman's hand, hoping Munch would get done in the bathroom soon and discover them.

"Can you tell me your name?" Olivia wanted to find out her identity and to keep her conscious. "Please stay with me. Talk to me, okay? Can you tell me your name?"

"Loo….look..out…" was all the woman managed to squeak out. Olivia frowned, not knowing what she meant, but glad that she was cognizant enough to speak. She definitely was a fighter. The woman coughed and struggled to finish her thought. Olivia just waited patiently, listening intently.

"Behind you…" finally managed to seep from the woman's lips. Olivia, sensing the urgency of the woman's warning, heard a faint noise behind her. She whirled around bringing her gun up with her. She didn't see anything at first, which worried her. Glancing around the darkened alley, she finally spotted the source of the commotion. A little rat was digging through the overflowing dumpster, looking for a meal. Olivia took a deep breath, realizing that her adrenaline had kicked in. While waiting for her heart beat to return to normal, she mentally chided herself for panicking. She needed to stay calm and help the poor woman.

The gun was holstered and she knelt down beside the victim again. She was began to reassure the young woman that there was nothing there, that it had just been a rodent, but she was interrupted by a sharp pain at the back of her head. Someone was ferociously wrenching her hair back, bringing her to her feet. Before she could make any noise, a cloth was placed over her nose and mouth. She immediately smelled a sickly sweet odor. Groaning with realization, Olivia tried to hold her breath but was unable to. Her head hurt too much. She didn't have any time to fight back, as her vision became blurry. Everything became darker and darker. All she could her were screams. Whether they cam from her or the other woman, she couldn't be sure. Before giving into the darkness that was beckoning her, one word managed to escape her lips, "Elliot"

Olivia hit the dark, wet pavement of the alleyway, lost in a world of shadows.

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A/N: Should I continue? Review and tell me what you think. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The man released his grip on Olivia's hair, as she fell to the ground unconscious. He could taste blood in his mouth. His lower lip was bleeding as a result of the struggle. She had stricken him in the face before she finally succumbed to the powerful anesthetic. By surprising her from behind, he had managed to avoid an "ugly" scene.

He let a sinister smirk appear on his mug. His plan had worked. Neither Olivia nor the older-looking detective had been aware of the fact that he was following them. They had driven around for a long time, too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice him. And of course, Benson had to be the hero. She had to race to the victims side. But this time she had raced headlong into a trap.

"Soon I'll be able to have justice." That thought brought an even bigger grin to his face. Though, he would have to watch himself. Any slight slip-up could throw a wrench in the works. He would also have to be careful to make sure Detective Benson didn't get the better of him. Though he also had a way to handle that. She wouldn't want any innocent people to get hurt, now would she?

He chuckled at his own cleverness as he casually stepped over Olivia's limp body, making his way to his bait. She had fought back harder than he expected, and he had the scratches to prove it. The woman was still conscious, and screaming for help. Unfortunately for her and that detective's sake, her cries were drowned out by the loud music pouring out of the club just down the street.

"Ssssh…" He cautioned, unholstering Olivia's gun. He pointed it at the shrieking woman. "If you don't stop shouting, I'll just have to silence you for good and she won't be able to save you. You wouldn't want that, now would you?" The woman stopped her cries, shaking her head slightly as he gestured to Olivia's near lifeless form.

He could hear the wailing sirens in the distance. Realizing he didn't have much time, he quickly hit the woman with the butt of the firearm, causing her to lose consciousness. He quickly picked Olivia up and carried her to his van. Carelessly he threw her comatose body in the back of the vehicle, slamming the door after her. Two seconds later, the vehicle sped off, just turning the corner as the emergency response units screeched to a halt in front of the alley.

x x x x x x x x x x x

_I knew I shouldn't have eaten all that chili. _Munch told himself as he calmly exited the men's room, whistling softly. He had taken longer than expected, and wasn't surprised when the bartender pointed to the exit in regard to where Olivia had gone. He knew she was feeling awful after that incident with Elliot this afternoon. She probably just went outside to clear her head. Though how she could do that with the blaring music emitting from the damn club next door.

As he got nearer the door, he could hear sirens blaring. He stepped out the door, observing the ambulance and two squad cars parked near the alley. Olivia wasn't in his car, or anywhere else in Munch's line of sight. No doubt she was in the alley already, helping whoever it was that needed the bus. Munch quickened his pace, intending to offer his services as well. As he rounded the corner, though, he couldn't find Olivia. He was slightly worried that she wasn't there attending to the victim being lifted on a gurney, like she always was. He knew she had been there, as her jacket was covering the woman, keeping her warm. He realized she could be canvassing the area looking for witnesses. At least he hoped she was.

"What do we have?" Munch asked, displaying his badge. Glancing at the officers present, he recognized the one apparently in charge. _Hanson? No. Hanstead? Yeah, that's it. _Munch didn't particularly care for him. They'd had a few run-ins with each other. He and Fin had been forced to work with him on a couple cases. He was one stubborn S.O.B. Always thought he was right, and never listened to reason. The other two Munch wasn't familiar with. The way acted around Hanstead indicated they weren't too fond of him either.

"Caucasian female. Mid-twenties. Unconscious. Possible rape. No ID." Hanstead answered, obviously irritated at the intrusion. "Anything else you feel you need to know?"

"Actually, now that you mention it, yes. Any of you happen to see my detective friend around here?" Munch questioned the three responding officers. After seeing them all shake their heads, he continued on. "I know she was here. Are you sure none of you saw where she went?"

"Listen Detective--?"

"Munch."

"Okay, Detective March. We didn't see her; the only person here is now being loaded into the ambulance, okay. Your detective friend, wherever she maybe, sure as hell wasn't here." Hanstead responded, rolling his eyes.

"Well, as I said before, I know she was here. You see, she belongs to that jacket there. Now let's try this again." Munch persisted, thoroughly annoyed. He ignored the bungling of his name; it could get a lot worse with this moron. He shrugged off the daggers Hanstead's eyes shot at him.

One of the EMT's interrupted, stepping out from behind the ambulance door. She ignored the angry glare sent her way from the lead officer. "Yeah there was an officer here. Dispatch got a call about ten minutes ago from a Detective, uh, Benson? Is that who you're looking for?"

"Yeah." Munch sensed a great amount of tension between Hanstead and the pretty EMT.

"She told dispatch she'd wait for us. That she was gonna stay by the vic. But when we pulled up, no Benson. No idea where she is now. I sure hope you find her, though." The attendant climbed into the back of the bus and the ambulance sped off towards the nearest hospital. Officer Hanstead barked out orders, sending his fellow officers into frenzy as they got out the crime scene tape.

_Maybe she went back inside to use the restrooms and the bartender was too busy to notice. _ As much as he hoped that was the case, he knew it wasn't possible. Olivia would never leave a vic for anything short of chasing a perp. But if she had taken after the perp, she would have mentioned that to the dispatcher, hopefully. Munch felt his stomach drop. Something definitely was wrong.

"Benson! Where the hell are you?" He frantically shouted.

He continued walking down the alley, his eyes darting this way and that, searching for anything out of place. Anything that could tell him where she was. As he approached the overflowing dumpster, something grabbed his eye. A white cloth, but not just any old white cloth. It was a linen napkin, which was why it drew his attention. It didn't belong here; it was way too upscale for this area. You were lucky if you even got a cheap paper towel to dry your hands in the dives around here. Bending down, Munch caught scent of a familiar stench.

_Chloroform. _The napkin was soaked in itMunch's stomach dropped even farther with terror. Now he knew the worst scenario was the only scenario left. Olivia was gone, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. If anything happened to her, he would never be able to forgive himself. Munch grabbed his phone, dreading the call he now had to make.

_Where are you, Olivia? Where are you? _Dialing the number, Munch could do nothing, but wonder. He flinched as someone picked up the receiver on the other end.

"Cap'n, It's about Olivia. She's gone. She's missing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Again, they're not mine. They belong to Mr. Wolf...lucky bastard. I didn't just say that.

**A/N: **Sorry it took such a long time--computer problems, lack of creativity, sheer laziness. Sloth, sloth. (aww..Johnny Depp: I 3 you!) By the rate I'm going, I'll be near 80 by the time I finish this darn thing. Anyways, thanks for all the kind reviews. Hope to earn some more.

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**Chapter 3**

Thoughts raced, as Olivia's eyes struggled to open. Everything was so hazy and blurry; she figured she must have passed out in that tavern. She couldn't understand why, she had only had one drink—and hadn't even finished it at that. She remembered leaving while Munch was away, and walking through the door unto the night. Then the cries for help rushed towards her, followed by the gaping dark hole of the alley and the pain. It took her only a second to realize what happen, and another to realize she was moving.

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

"How the hell, Joe? ---How the HELL are WE gonna get away with THIS? We can't go through with this…I…I can't do this," he gestured to the body carelessly flung in the back of the van. "You need to, like, stop…or…or turn around. Yeah…turn around and go back. Just, just go back…Just go—"

"Shut up!" the driver interrupted. He threaded through evening traffic, jerking the wheel to narrowly avoid a collision with an oncoming ambulance. Nervously his hand wiped away at the blood still trickling from his mouth. She must have chipped a tooth. The bitch.

"Joe…I can't—"

"I said, 'SHUT UP!'" Joe sent the van teetering around the corner, swiping the side of a parked car. Hearing a heavy thump and a muffled groan, he whipped his head around to check. Satisfied Olivia was still out cold, he returned his gaze to the road in front of them. "Now, you listen to me! We can't go back, you hear! If we go back, we're done for. That place will be swarming with cops…you think we can just go and hand her back, saying 'Gee…We're sorry…we didn't mean to take her?' They'd have us sent up river before we even step out of the van, you IDIOT!"

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just…it's just…it's just," he trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"I know what you mean, but you have to pull it together. We're doing this for a reason. Think of Chuck, of what that bitch did to him, okay?"

"O-o-o-okay."

"Okay." The driver negotiated the van around a few more cars. Looking down for a second at the blood on his hand, he muttered angrily to himself.

"Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we gonna do? I mean, we're not gonna kill her, right? RIGHT? Joe--we're not gonna kill her, right?"

"Just shut up and make sure she's not up ahead of schedule. You just let me worry about what happens to Miss Detective Olivia Benson."

The van, safe from any police pursuit, slowed and turned on to a quiet residential street.

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Bright lights flashed quickly across Olivia's face. _Streetlamps_, she guessed. She knew she had dropped her gun, but what about her phone? _Could I be so lucky? _Silently groping around for it, she hurriedly took note of her present location. She was in a vehicle -- a van maybe? She could hear two men's voices violently arguing from somewhere in the front. She could barely make out what they were saying.

"How the hell, Joe?"---her hand clasped something cool and hard. Her cell phone! Attempting to call for help without drawing any attention to herself, she hit the first number on speed dial.

_Pick up, pick up! Please pick up! Elliot, I need you to pick up! Oh God, please: Answer your damn phone!_ The call, unanswered, rang through to voicemail. Exasperated, Olivia began a second attempt to reach the outside world.

One voice became louder and even angrier: "I said, 'SHUT UP!'" Just then the vehicle took a hard corner, throwing Olivia to the other side of the van. An old-fashioned tool box slid along the floor, gaining speed until it collided with Olivia's head, rendering her unconscious. As darkness once again fell around her, her cell phone continued, completing its task. This time, someone was there on the other end, calling out into the dark.

"Hello?... Liv, is that you?... Liv?... Liv?... Liv!! Where are you, Liv? ... Are you okay? Liv?..."

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading!! It's a little shorter, but I'll try and post Ch. 4 ASAP! 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The apartment was dark, almost cave-like. No lights were on, and the window shades were drawn. Elliot lay sprawled out on the couch. A few beer containers were scattered around the coffee table, and an open bottle of aspirin lay on its side, spilling its contents onto the table. Elliot was sure the combination had some consequences -- and that Munch could more than likely recite them from memory -- but he just didn't care. He shifted on the couch, laying his arm across his face, covering his eyes. He kept replaying the confrontation he and Liv had earlier that afternoon.

_"What's the matter with you? This doesn't have anything to do with your divorce, does it?"_

That one line had sent him into a tailspin.

_"What the hell is that supposed to mean? What the hell do you know? That girl's story couldn't be more asinine if she said Santa Clause was the one who molested her! In fact, it would probably be more plausible!" He slammed down his coffee mug spraying coffee all over his desk and hers.  
_

_"I've always wondered about that ol' man," Fin tried to diffuse the situation. Munch caught on to the attempt, "Yeah...just what does make him so damn jolly?"_

_"SHUT UP!" Elliot was angry already, he didn't need any more nonsense. "You have no right to bring MY divorce in to this. You know nothing about it, and how could you? You can't even get a second date! So what the hell do you know?"_

Elliot wasn't proud, but he sure as hell wasn't going to apologize. She was the one who started it, she should apologize to him. It was her fault. She was wrong. She was so---

The phone halted his mental tirade.

"How the hell?" Elliot listened in disbelief. He had removed the house phone from the wall, and thought he had switched his cell phone off after they both wouldn't stop ringing earlier. Getting up from the couch, he walked over to his cell phone lying on the floor near the wall. It was indeed ringing.

_Huh, it must have turned back on when it hit the wall. _Picking it up from the floor, he could see it was from Olivia. _Maybe she's calling to apologize? Doubtful -- she's probably just calling to yell again. I don't need that._

Elliot switched the phone off. Something didn't feel right, though. He debated calling her back, but then shrugged it off. _Damn Catholic guilt._ Elliot stumbled back across the room, and again flopped down on the couch in misery to recount the argument once more.

**x x x x x x x x x x x **

Captain Cragen stepped under the yellow police tape. CSU technicians were buzzing around, but the near-dozen cops were only standing around. He saw Munch arguing with some other officer. Usually he would intercede and smooth feathers, but tonight was different. Tonight he didn't care about interdepartmental policy. Tonight he didn't care about police procedure. Tonight was what he never thought about. Even in his worst nightmares, he never imagined this. One of his own was missing, and he would do anything to bring her back -- even if it meant hanging up his uniform and turning in his badge.

Cragen walked over to the two. "What's going on, John? Where's Elliot?...I'm Captain Cragen of Manhattan SVU." He introduced himself to the other detective, extending his hand.

"Listen, I don't care if you're the Queen of Sheba. This is MY crime scene, and MY people are going to be handling MY case. So if you and Detective Murkle would get out of MY face, I could get back to doing MY job!" Hanstead was beginning to turn red.

Munch wasn't willing to just give in, "AND it's MY partner, MY friend whose missing you little twit! So, no! I won't get out of YOUR face!

"That's exactly why YOU shouldn't be handling it, isn't it? Now if you would excuse me, I have a kidnapping to investigate." Hanstead briskly turned away marching over to his officers to take control for a second time.

"John, are you alright?"

"No, no I'm not! It's my fault she's gone! I was in the fucking bathroom! How fucking ridiculous is that? While I was in there whistlin' "Dixie," she was out here fighting for her life! What if...what if..." He looked pleadingly at Cragen, with tears building up behind his glasses.

Cragen put his hand on Munch's arm. "That's not going to happen. Liv's a tough girl. She's a fighter. She won't let that happen. She'll be back. I'm sure of it. She's going to figure a way out of---"

The ring of a cell phone cut Cragen off in midsentence. Munch flipped open his phone, crying out.

"Hello?... Liv, is that you?... Liv?... Liv?... Liv!! Where are you, Liv? ... Are you okay? Liv?..."

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Elliot awoke to pounding and yelling. Rolling off the couch, he slowly sauntered over to the door. He looked through the peephole at Fin, who looked beyond pissed.

"Yo! Open up the damn door, you sorry-good-for-nothin'-pain-in-the-ass!"

Elliot slid open the locks and held the door slightly ajar. "What the hell do you want? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, but I don't give a flying fuck. Liv's gone."

"What? Maybe we'll finally have some peace and quiet no--- OW! What the hell!" Elliot was interrupted as Fin slapped his face.

"No you Jackass! She's missing! She was abducted and for all we know, could be dead right now!"

"WHAT? Oh my god...No, she's not...she couldn't be...she...she...she..." Elliot slowly sank to the floor, his world crashing down around him.

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** A/N:** I'll try and get Ch. 5 up soon, too! Thanks for reviewing! 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: ** I had a request for longer chapters. Yay! I'm not the only one. I'm going to try and get longer ones...I would have made this one longer, but my bed is calling my name, and I thought I should give you some more. Besides, I reached a "logical closure point" for this chapter.

As always: Thanks for the reviews!!

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**Chapter 5**

"Shit, man. They definitely don't pay me enough for this." Fin groaned as he struggled to bring Elliot back to his feet. He reeked of alcohol.

"Oh my god, I should have been there. I'm so stupid...so stupid...so..so...I yelled at her!" Elliot's ability to stand up by himself trickled out of him through his tears. "I yelled at her!"

"Yeah. You did. Regular ol' jackass. But now...if you don't stop your sobbin', I'm gonna hafta slap you again. I will..not..hesitate. Now stand up!"

Elliot stood up.

"Good, now.. definitely no more giggle juice for you. Coffee, coffee is what we need. Come on. Before we see the Cap'n, we see the coffee. Right. Okay. My car's that way." He pointed out the door. When Elliot failed to get the hint, Fin sighed again.

"I hafta do everythin' round here, don't I?" He grabbed the collar of Elliot's shirt and pushed him out the door and into the night.

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Lights flashed and sirens wailed, but there was complete and awkward silence within the car. The only other sound present was the squeak of the windshield wipers. It had since started to rain. Fin shot sideways glances towards Elliot when it was safe to take his eyes off the road. Elliot sat stone-faced, his eyes never shifting from their eerie gaze out the window. He had stayed in that position ever since Fin finished explaining the situation. Fin had seen him on his worst days, but never had he been like this.

"You okay, man?" The question failed to bring Elliot back from his semi-comatose state. "Ya know, Liv's gonna be alright. She's gonna make it through. She has to...she has to." Fin sighed and concentrated on the vehicles in front of them. _She has to...she just has to._

Fin could no longer bear to think about Liv any more, so he refocused his attentions on Elliot. He was no longer rational; he was no longer under control -- if in fact he ever was. He was fragile and could snap at any moment. Fin had an uneasy feeling of what was to come next. He was going to have to come up with a plan, and fast. He had only a few blocks left before the shit hit the fan.

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Munch stood at the window in the SVU squadroom, looking down upon the city as the rain started to fall. He was worried about Liv; about the phone call. She never answered, and then the call was disconnected abruptly. CSU had traced the call to somewhere around West 72nd Street and Amsterdam Avenue, but by the time a squad car could arrive on scene, Olivia and her captors were long gone. Temporary roadblocks had been set up on the bridges in an attempt to intercept them. But when you didn't know what you were looking for, it was going to be very hard to find it.

Hearing someone enter the room behind him, Munch turned to look. Elliot slowly marched through the door, followed by a wary Fin. Elliot noticed Munch and continued his gradual trek.

"I'm so, so sorry, Elliot. I should have been there the whole time." Munch knew what was coming and didn't try to stop it.

"Oh no ya don't!" Fin leapt after Elliot, but it was too late. Munch was already on the ground with Elliot's hands around his throat. Fin grabbed hold of Elliot and attempted to pull him off of his partner.

"What in the hell is going on in here?!?" Cragen felt like he was stepping into one nightmare followed by another.

"Little help, Cap'n?" Fin could only do so much. Cragen grabbed Elliot's other shoulder, and the two managed to pull him back from Munch. Munch scampered up and out of the way.

"Elliot, cool it. NOW! It's not your fault, nor is it his! Now, I want you to give Officer Hanstead a call and find out where we stand so far."

"Hanstead? Shit, we ain't gettin' nothin' outta that--"

"Fin, shut it. You are going to head down to CSU and see how much they managed to collect before the rain hit."

"Sure thing, Cap'n." Fin quickly exited the squad room.

"And Munch? Straighten your tie, and then...and then..." Cragen glanced over towards the door, "and then entertain our visitor." Satisfied he had left everyone with an assignment, Cragen rubbed his temples and shut himself in his office.

"Bad night, huh?"

Munch looked up to see that the pretty EMT from the scene had stopped by. "Can I help you with something?"

"Well..not really," she began, "but I told Hanstead something, and I thought I should make sure you knew about it, too. I don't think he paid much attention to it, and I think it could be important."

"Well, you certainly have my attention."

"Good. After we got the call, it took us less than twelve minutes to get to the scene. Anyways, a few blocks away, Jim had to swerve to avoid a vehicle that was driving way too fast and too reckless. It was an older, white van with markings on the side. Like for a business design maybe. I think it was black, although it could have been a dark green or blue, I'm not sure. There were two men, I think, in front, and they were, in my opinion, arguing about something. It struck me as odd after I thought about it, and thought you should know."

"Okay. Was there anything else about the van you noticed? The license plate perhaps."

She shrugged and shook her head. "Nope--No wait! There wasn't one. There wasn't a license plate at all! At least not on the front. I have no idea about the back."

"No license plate? Suspicious indeed. What about the two men? Could you describe them?"

"Sorry...it was really dark, and we were both going so fast. I don't even know what color hair or skin they had." She apologized a few more times, and promised she would be praying for Detective Benson's return. Munch nodded, thanking her, and sat down on Liv's desk.

"How's the vic?"

"She's stable. I hung around a while. I had a feeling she needed someone. She hadn't regained consciousness, though, before I left." A few short beeps from her pager signified the end of their conversation. "Oop, that's me. Job's never done, I guess."

Munch let out a worried sigh as she hurried out the door. _Yeah, tell me about it. _He turned his head toward the window again._ Where are you, Liv?_

x x x x x x x x x x x

Sunlight poured into the SVU squad room reminding the team that the well-established window was ever-narrowing.

"Damn it!" Elliot slammed the receiver back on its base. "I pissed away all that time, just to have him tell me it's out of his hands?!? God damn it!"

"Typical Hanstead. Can't play nice with anyone." Munch looked towards the door, catching sight of Fin. "Anything?"

Fin looked down at a thin manila file folder. "Yeah. They saved a few things, don't have 'em processed yet. Found the first vic's purse in the dumpster. Tracey Rudnick, 27. Reported missin' by her roommate yesterday mornin' from Newark over in Jersey."

Munch threw up his hands and bounced off the desk, "No wonder it's not in his hands anymore!"

"What? Whose hands? Who? Why is it not in his hands?" Fin was confused. His mind felt numb. Two hours of science geek lingo could do that to a person. "Please tell me this isn't one of your damn conspiracy theories...I'm not in the mood."

Munch started to reply, but was cut off.

"Conspiracy theories? I love a good conspiracy theory," a woman's voice sounded. The SVU team turned to see an attractive blond framed by five burly men in shades and trenchcoats.

"Who the hell---" Fin was thoroughly surprised.

"The feds. As I was starting to say, before someone's grandiose entrance interrupted me, the perp took her across state lines, making it federal. Hence the goon squad you see before you, and not the goon on the other end of Elliot's phone line."

"Goon squad?" the woman replied, "hmm...sure, why not? We needed a new nickname anyway. 'Fibbies' was getting kind of old." A few of her men snickered quietly. The woman stepped forward, extending her hand to Elliot, "I'm Agent Lanie Peterson, and we're here to--"

"Intrude on the investigation and fuck up our case." Elliot gave her the stare down, refusing to shake her hand.

The woman, allowing a tight smile, didn't seem to be phased. "Close. I was going to say we're here to help bring back your friend, and nail the bastard to the wall. You must be Stabler."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: ** Sorry it took a while. Had writer's block & then surgery...

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"Close. I was going to say we're here to help bring back your friend, and nail the bastard to the wall. You must be Stabler." Agent Peterson matched Elliot's gaze with an equally cool one of her own. She pivoted, moving her still-extended hand first to Fin, "Detective Tutuola?" and then to Munch, "Ah. Mister Government Conspiracy himself, eh?"

"In the flesh." Munch smirked painfully.

Elliot snorted. Ignoring him for the moment, Agent Peterson turned to introduce the rest of her team, pointing them out as she went down the list: "Agents Collins, Meyer, Davis, Johannes, Anderson, and...and...Where the hell is Dawes?" Individually giving each of her men a probing look, she was only met by the shaking of heads and averting of eyes. "He left, didn't he?"

Johannes spoke up, "Uh, yeah. Yes, ma'am, he did."

"Son of a bitch." She spun back around, a tiny flame flaring in her eyes. "But then, this might actually be a good thing as Dawes is a ---"

"Ya know what? I don't really care for the small talk." Elliot rolled his eyes. "We all know you're just here to steal the investigation from us just like you did with Hanstead. Don't bother trying to make us feel like equals."

"Oh, really? Well YOU know what? I didn't STEAL the investigation from that incompetent fool! I SAVED it and brought it here to this squad because I thought we could work together to find Detective Benson. This territorial shit is just that. Which is why I'm glad Dawes bailed. That's his M.O.-- not mine. The perp WILL however be charged federally, but the investigation itself will be handled jointly. Captain Cragen will have free-reign over the process. We're just here for assistance and to lend our resources and manpower. Personally, I think two heads are better than one. Is that alright with you? Because, if you really want, I'm sure my men and I could manage this case all by ourselves." Hearing no rebuttal, she continued, "Good. Now, what have we got so far?"

"The usual white van with nondescript markings on the side. Oh, and minus a license, so no telling which state it's registered in. For some unknown reason, my guess is Jersey, but Lord only knows how many thousands of white vans there are over there. Then double that for New York. And that only applies if the vehicle the EMT saw is, in fact, the vehicle we need." Munch sighed, troubled.

"Oh, it's the vehicle." Everyone turned to stare at Agent Meyer. "Uh...well...uh...Witnesses of the first abduction all reported the same description: white van, dark markings, no license plate, and dangerous driving. However," Meyer looked down at his notepad, "one witness recalled that the design on the side had two words beneath it. She remembers seeing two "L"s, but is not sure which place or which word. Though, it doesn't seem to be any help to us right now.

"Not right now, no. But it will further down the line. Anyone have anything else?" Agent Peterson swiveled around, her open arms inviting any input.

"What about that napkin? The one with the chloroform? Any leads on where either of them came from?" Collins posed the question towards the SVU squad.

"I walked all up and down that street and didn't find no dump that used linen ones. Besides, it's not like it's distinctive or anything. As for the chloroform, I know pharmaceutical companies use it. We could check with them."

"Dectective Tutuola brought up a good point."

"Fin."

"Okay, Fin brought up a good point. Someone, uh...Davis. Head on back, make a list of pharms, and start asking around. It's doubtful, but it's something," She turned back around, "Chloroform could be made just as easily. Just mix acetone and chlorine, and viola! If our perp is into chemistry or has access to the Internet, he'd know that."

"Great." Captain Cragen exited his office. "Roadblocks didn't catch anything. Checked out a couple of white vans, but no go. Munch, you and Fin head over to the hospital where our vic's at. She just woke up and is waiting for someone to take her statement. Agent Peterson? Welcome to the team." He stepped over to shake the fed's hand.

"Thanks. Now, Stabler. I haven't heard anything useful out of you yet. Let's see if we can start coming up with suspects. Anyone threatened your partner recently? Any angry felons recently paroled?"

Elliot looked dubious. "What makes you so sure Liv was the target, and that it wasn't just random?"

Peterson shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not completely sure of anything right now. But it's just a little odd that he would let the first victim be found by Benson. And then he left her alive? He seems too smart to be that stupid. Plus, he brought the chloroform with him. He was ready and waiting. For some reason he wants Benson."

The phone in Cragen's office rang. Returning a few minutes later, he offered up news. "That was CSU. They found two samples of blood in the alley. One belonged to the first victim, the other matched the DNA under her fingernails. None of it was...none of it was Liv's." Cragen raised a hand to his face in an attempt to hide the tear that had just fallen. "They're running it through the system, but so far no hits."

"Okay, good. We have DNA. Hopefully something'll match. But until then, Benson's files." Peterson pointed Elliot towards an empty room.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"What room she in?" Fin asked Munch.

"Well, as we both heard the receptionist say: Room 203." Munch shook his head as he stepped out of the elevator.

"Where's that?"

Munch rolled his eyes. "I would imagine the room over there."

"Which one?"

"Something tells me its the one with the two uniforms outside, but then again, you know: that's just me."

Munch quickly strode down the hall, with Fin hurrying along. "Ya know: I totally knew that."

"Yeah, I bet you did." Munch displayed his badge to the two officers on guard and passed through the doorway. The woman, seeing them enter, grimaced in pain as she struggled to sit upright.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it easy. No need to be formal." Munch stepped closer to give her a hand. "Detective John Munch, Manhattan SVU. My partner over here, running on slightly outdated software, is Detective Tutuola. Call him Fin. He doesn't mind."

Fin shot Munch a glare, which melted away when he turned back to the victim. "Nah, I don't mind."

The woman managed a slight smile. "Tracey, Tracey Rudnick. But I imagine you already know that." She looked again at Munch as if remembering something. "Have I met you before?"

"Not officially. I was there when they loaded you in the bus, er, ambulance."

"Oh...That explains why it seemed like a dream. My eyes must have fluttered open or something." The woman stifled a few tears, and added, "What...what do you need to know?"

Munch pulled up a chair and sat down, grabbing the woman's hand. Fin understood the look he tossed his way, finding his own chair and flipping open a notepad. "Whatever you can tell us. Don't worry if you can't remember something. Just tell us what you know."

"Okay." Tracey slowly nodded. "Well, I remember leaving the house. My roommate and I had just had a huge fight. Over closet space, no less! Anyway, I needed to clear my head, so I was just gonna blow some cash at the mall. My car was parked down the block; I had just unlocked the door when I heard a man shout my name. I turned and felt something over my mouth and nose. I reached out to try and grab something. I think I hit the horn. At least I remember the sound of it. But it could have been my imagination. By then everything was dark, and the next thing I remember, I was in that alley. There was a woman standing over me...and...oh god: Is she okay?!?"

Munch attempted to calm her down. "I sure hope so, but whatever else you can tell us will really help us find her, okay? What happened then?"

"She...she called an ambulance, and was trying to talk to me. I saw movement. Behind her. I knew it was him. I tried to tell her...I really tried. She finally understood, I think. She took out a gun and turned around. She didn't see him, thought it was a rat. She tried to calm me down, but I kept trying to tell her...and...by then it was too late. He had her by her hair. She was fighting back--I think she hit him hard in the mouth--he was bleeding. I tried to scream, but I couldn't. When she hit the ground, he walked over to me with her gun. I thought...I thought he was gonna kill me. He said something, I don't remember. Then he hit me...with the gun. I don't remember anything else. I woke up here with two policemen." The woman wiped away tears, and hid her face.

Fin shifted uncomfortably. This part never got any easier. "Are you sure there isn't anything else you remember? Did he assault you?"

Tracey could no longer hold back the tears. She shook as she spoke, "He must have. I just...I just can't remember it. I know he did, but I don't have any idea. I just see myself in the alley. Everything else is blank."

Munch handed her the box of tissues from the table. "It happens a lot. It's a safety mechanism. We tend to shut out the trauma. Do you remember him saying anything--you said he knew your name, right? Did you recognize him--or his voice?"

"No. He knew my name, but I don't think I knew him. How did he know me...how did he know where I live?"

The woman did not appear to have any more information to give. Munch and Fin thanked her and rose to leave. Munch gave her his number and asked her to call if she had anything more to offer. They had reached the door, when she called out again.

"Wait! The woman--what was her name? I want to know who she is."

Munch managed a grin. "Her name's Olivia. Detective Olivia Benson."

"Detective? Oh. Well, thank you. Olivia, then? I'm praying for her. Please find her. I want to thank her for helping me."

"Will do." The two ducked out the door, and headed for the elevator once again.

**x x x x x x x x x x x x**

Olivia's heart pounded. Her head pounded. Everything was pounding. And shaking--everything was shaking. _Convulsions? I can't be having a seizure, can I? _Suddenly she realized someone else was doing the shaking.

"Miss? Please, please wake up! Please...oh god, please don't be dead. Please open your eyes!" Olivia focused on the voice. It wasn't either of the ones from the van ride. It sounded like a young girl. She flung her eyes open to look into a girl's face. She couldn't have been more than thirteen.

"Oh, thank you!" The girl threw her arms around the stunned Olivia. "I'm so glad you're not dead!"

"Me too." Olivia struggled to get her hands beneath her. The girl whispered an apology and got off of her. Trying to pull her hands free, Olivia realized she couldn't. They were bound together, as were her feet. "Damn duct tape. If only it didn't make the world go round, huh?"

The girl smiled and helped pull Olivia into a sitting position against a wall.

"Thanks. I'm Olivia by the way. Now, what's your name?"

"I'm Emmy."

"Emmy? Like the award?"

The girl gave a slight giggle. "I guess. My real name's Emily, but my mom used to call me Emmy. I like it better and you seem nice enough to use it, too."

Olivia smiled, "Okay then, Emmy it is. You wouldn't happen to know where we are, would you?"

Emmy shook her head. Olivia gave a slight nod of understanding. "Well...would you mind helping me with this?" Olivia brought her hands slightly into view.

A frightened look crossed the young girls face. "Um...I would, but Lennie said Joe would hurt me if I did. Sorry."

"Okay. No worries, I understand. Lennie? Who's he? Is he your dad?" Olivia had switched into cop mode.

"NO!" The girl shook her head violently. "My parents died when I was three."

"Sorry to hear that. Did this Lennie--did he--did he take you?"

The girl cautiously nodded. "I was walking home from school two days ago, when someone grabbed me and threw me into the van. That was Joe. Lennie was in the van."

"Joe?"

"Yeah...that's what Lennie called him. Joe got mad, but then said something like it didn't matter and that I wasn't going to tell anyone ever." Emmy looked scared at the memory of it.

"So...I take it Joe's the one in charge. Is that right?"

"Yeah. He's always yelling at Lennie when he forgets something or doesn't agree with him."

"Ah. So when they abducted you, did you notice anything on the route? Anything that you may have recognized at all?

"I don't know. There aren't any windows in the van except in front, but Joe kept yelling at me to keep my head on the floor. So I did. Before they took me out of the van, they tied a cloth around my eyes so I couldn't see the house. But..." The girl trailed off, shifting her eyes around the room.

"But? But what?"

"Well..." She leaned in close to Olivia's ear, and her voice dropped to below a whisper. "I sort of, um, tripped, only it was on purpose you see...and when I was on the ground, I peeked beneath the blind fold. I saw the street sign. I think it said Clifford. But Joe had me up so fast, I didn't see anything else." The girl backed away slowly, returning to sit leaning against the wall next to Liv.

Olivia asked the girl some more questions, listening intently to the answers and making mental notes. As her ears stayed tuned in to Emmy, her eyes wandered about the room. They were definitely in the basement. That much she could tell from the cool, cement floor and walls. The dark prevented her from seeing much detail. The ceiling of the other side of the room seemed to slope, suggesting stairs. There didn't seem to be a light. Even if there was, it would be near impossible to find the switch. Olivia assumed it must be night still, but there weren't any windows to confirm her theory.

The girl suddenly stopped talking. Olivia snapped back to attention. The echoes of footsteps on the stairs resounded through the room. A few seconds later, the knob on the door rattled. The sound of a key in the lock filled the silence.

The door was heaved open, flooding the room with light which blinded Olivia momentarily. Calibrating her eyes to the new light, she saw a man step forward. He wore a mask and held a gun in his hand. Her gun.

The man grabbed her by her hair once again and hauled her to her feet. "Mornin' detective. Slept well I hope."

"Peachy." Olivia scowled as he marched her through the door and into the next room.

"Grand. I guess that means it's time for your fifteen seconds of fame, huh?" The man all but tossed her into a chair, while a second masked individual added more duct tape to keep her there.

Olivia raised her eyebrow as she stared straight into the lens of a camcorder positioned on a tripod.

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**A/N:** As always, review! 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Elliot could take no more. He wished it was all just a bad dream. He wished the feds would get their grimy hands out of Olivia's files and stop dissecting their work. He wished he hadn't yelled at Liv. But most of all, he just wished Liv would stumble through the door looking bedraggled like she did every early morning.

He looked across the table at Agent Peterson, watching as she handed out small stacks of folders to each of her men. He watched as one by one they filed out the door. He watched when one clumsy agent dropped his stack and scattered the contents all over the floor. He watched as Peterson and the man bent down to try to reassemble in a few seconds what had taken he and Liv months. He couldn't bear to watch any more.

"Stabler."

Elliot looked up to see one of the squad's uniforms poking his head in the door. "Yeah?"

"A delivery guy just left you a package on your desk. Said it was urgent."

Elliot stood up, knocking his chair back against the wall, and took off on a dead run. The young officer shouted that he'd gone down the elevator. Not wanting to miss him, Elliot took the stairs. Bursting out into the light crowds on the sidewalk, he searched the pedestrians for a delivery uniform. Finally he spotted one near the end of the block. People scattered as he set off on another sprint.

"Hey you! Stop!" The delivery man turned around only to be grabbed by the collar and shoved against the building. Elliot breathed heavy in his face. "Where is she you bastard? Where the hell is she?"

"Who? I don't know what you're talking about, man! You're crazy!" The delivery man seemed genuine enough in his surprise.

"The package you just dropped off: who sent it? What was the name?"

The man looked scared, yet also confused. "What package? You must have me confused with some other guy. I haven't dropped anything off yet. I'm delivering this over there." He raised a small brown package and pointed to a brick building on the next block.

Elliot released his grip on the man's collar. He whirled around, scanning the area again. He caught sight of a yellow and grey cap across the street. He dangerously weaved through traffic, ignoring the horns and shouts, and came up behind the man. Grabbing the back of his jacket and spinning him around, he asked pointedly if he had delivered anything yet.

"Yeah...to the cop shop across the way there. Why?"

"I need to know who sent it. It's important."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Sorry. Can't tell you that unless you give me a reason. Company policy. Invasion of privacy and shit."

_Screw policy! Screw invasion of privacy! _Elliot wanted to scream. "A reason? I'll give you a reason! That name may mean life or death for an NYPD Detective. If you don't give me it, and she dies: I will find you. You hear me? I...Will...Find...You. Believe me when I say I will hunt you down. That's a promise."

"Whoa, take it easy. I don't want no blood on my hands. Give me a second. Let me look at my chart. Ah, here it is: Fee was paid in cash by an Oliver Benson. Never saw the dude. He dropped it in our after-hours slot with the money taped to the front. You want the video, call my boss. Is that enough?"

Elliot's face fell a little. _Another goose chase and another dead end._ "Almost. Who else besides you handled the package?"

"Why? Oh, for fingerprints? Just me, but I wear gloves. I watch CSI. Don't wanna be accused of anything I didn't do. Oh, and Sheila."

"Sheila?"

"Yeah, Sheila O'Harris. The dispatcher or whatever. She hands 'em out. But her prints'll be in the system."

Elliot's head shot up. The man, sensing his question, gave explanation, "She had a little too much at the office Christmas party and picked up a DUI. Um, can I go now? I got packages to deliver and people waitin'."

Elliot angrily nodded, and backed away from the man.

"Looks like you're havin' a rough day."

Elliot spun around to see a man in a dark trench coat leaning against a car. "Yeah, well what the hell would you know about it?" Elliot got the feeling he was another fed, but he didn't remember meeting him earlier. It didn't matter either way: he was sick of all of them.

The man smirked and dropped his cigarette, grinding it into the concrete with the toe of his expensive shoe. "How goes the working with Special Agent Barbie? She fucked up the case yet?"

Elliot raised an eyebrow. Remembering the conversation earlier, he asked, "You Dawes? Agent Peterson seems to think you would do better off the case than on."

"She would, wouldn't she?" The man continued smirking as he shifted his weight.

"Now, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Elliot didn't like the fact Agent Dawes didn't answer his question.

"All I'm saying is that maybe she doesn't know what's best for the investigation, if you get me." Dawes looked around suspiciously, as if sweeping for eavesdroppers.

Elliot looked unconvinced. "And why would that be?"

Dawes was now grinning. "She's an amateur. Just a wannabe cop playing dress-up. If you don't believe me, check her track record. She's never even solved a single case."

"Oh, yeah? Well if she's so awful, why don't you take the control?" Even though he disliked Peterson at the moment, he was willing to giver her the benefit of the doubt---for now.

"The powers-that-be seem to think she's an asset for some reason or another. You ask me, she's got them wrapped around her trigger finger. They'd never take her off the case, and I wouldn't want to even touch an investigation she's diseased. But I'm sure she'll be great on this one." With that the man slyly turned and walked around to the driver's side of his car. "You take care now!" he shouted out before turning on the ignition and pulling out into traffic, leaving Elliot to stare after him, dumbfounded.

**x x x x x x x x x x x **

Munch stood hunched over the shoulder of the crime scene technician. The latter worked feverishly to find usable fingerprints on the envelope. So far all he had was a few smudges that wouldn't be good to run, let alone match to anything.

"Yo Munch! Back off. Give the guy some space." Fin yanked Munch back a foot. "He doesn't need you breathin' down his neck. He's under enough stress with us starin' at him like he's the fricken perp."

The lab tech brought his eyes up to meet Fin's. He gave a silent nod of gratitude before returning to his work.

Munch avoided further temptation by stepping over to his own desk. He looked up just as Elliot stormed through the squad room again. "You enjoy your stroll? Sure were gone long enough. Did ya take the guy out for a steak or what?"

Munch realized as soon as he said it, he shouldn't have. For the second time that morning, Elliot lost control of his rage and had Munch pinned to his desk.

"Damn it, not again!" Fin leaped from his seat atop Stabler's desk. A second later he reached the struggling duo, only to find he was not without help. Agent Peterson currently had one hand on each participant, attempting to pry them apart. Fin was amazed at how fast she had them apart.

Peterson was now between the two, a hand on each of their chests keeping them separated. "Now...there will be NO more of this, you hear me? Detective Munch, you will not insult anyone for as long as I am here, and Detective Stabler, you will not assault anyone for as long as I am here. Let's take all of this negative energy and channel it into finding Detective Benson. As soon as I am sure she is safe and the perp is well on his way to punishment, then by all means, demolish each other. But ONLY then! Do I have your agreement? Munch?"

Munch nodded slowly.

Peterson looked to Elliot, "Stabler?"

Elliot was beyond the boiling point. The odd encounter on the street came to the front of his mind. "Why should we listen to you? You've never even solved a case."

Peterson's face changed from one of frustration to one blank of any emotion. "What did you just say?"

Elliot raised his voice a little higher. "You heard me, hotshot. You have a ZERO percent closing rate!"

The SVU team turned their attentions away from the nervous technician and towards the accused federal agent. Anger started to seep into her countenance. "Is that right? Well last time I checked, everyone starts out with a zero percent. Even you, Detective."

"Oh, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? This is your first case? Just great. Just like the FBI: Send a fucking rookie to find the missing cop. Just what we fuckin' need!"

"Hey!" Peterson stepped closer to Elliot. The power behind her anger made their difference in height unnoticeable. "I am NOT a rookie! And this is NOT my first case! What I meant was that this is my first case as Special Agent in Charge! So the next time you wanna play, Detective Stabler, I'd get your facts from a RELIABLE source and not just someone you meet on the street. Now, do I have your agreement?"

Elliot took a step backwards, acknowledging defeat. "Yes, ma'am."

"Great. Perhaps we can get back to finding Benson now?" She turned and walked briskly over to the lab tech, who shook his head in response to her question.

"Sorry guys. Just smudges on the envelope, and the tape that was inside was wiped clean."

"Tape?" Elliot stood next to Agent Peterson, greatly concerned.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter doesn't go very far. I'm leaving for a two-week vacation, and wanted to post what I had so far as to not leave you without anything new. I'll try and work on the next chapter while I'm away and post when I get back.

Please review, though!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Okay: _**Bold & italicized**_ means its occurring on the tape. _Italics only_ still means thoughts/memories.

Please Review!!

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**Chapter 8**

The team watched in horrified silence as the tape played on.

**_"You do realize they'll find you, don't you?" Olivia kept her eyes fixed on the man off-screen._**

**_"Don't take me for a fool, Detective." The man snapped bitterly, "That would be a really stupid thing to do."_**

**_The man walked behind Liv's chair. He bent down, his masked face appearing just over her right shoulder. "If I were you, I'd try to avoid doing stupid things."_**

_**Olivia rolled her eyes, and yawned dramatically. A smirk materialized on her face, "Well, obviously you're not me as you just keep on making stupid decisions. Kidnapping a New York City police officer--gotta hand it to you: Dumbest move in the book. Perhaps you should practice what you preach."**_

_**The masked man walked across the camera once more while she spoke. As she finished her snide remark, his hand whipped across her face.**_

_**"Now that I have your attention, Detective---"**_

_**"Fuck you!" Olivia spat at him.**  
_

_**The man said nothing in response. Instead he pulled out and pointed at her head a gun.**_

Elliot slammed his fist on the desk, knocking paperwork everywhere. He ran his hand nervously over his face.

_**Olivia's countenance showed no fear. In fact, her eyes seemed to be mocking him, daring him to pull the trigger. The man must have realized this as he aimed the gun away from her.**_

The entire squad let out a brief sigh of relief.

**_Sudden fear leaped across her face. "No!" she shouted. "Please, don't! Please!"_**

_**"I take it you're ready to listen then?"**_

_**Olivia nodded slowly and begrudgingly. "Yes," she said weakly but viciously.**_

_**The man lowered the weapon. "That's good to hear. I hope your friends at the office are ready to listen as well."**  
_

The members of the team shifted uncomfortably. Except for Agent Peterson, Elliot noticed. Munch lowered his eyes to the floor, Fin turned to look out the window, Cragen looked like the wind had been knocked out of him and had to lean on a desk to keep his balance, but Peterson stood perfectly still with her gaze fixed intently on Liv's face. Elliot shook his head. He felt sick. He wanted very much to be able to leave the room like the other FBI agents did, but he knew he couldn't. He felt as though he had to be there for her, as if by watching he was somehow able to protect her.

**_"Shall we get started then?"_**

**_ Olivia narrowed her eyes._**

**_"Alright, Detective. You have one question. I suggest you use it wisely."_**

"What the hell?" Fin muttered under his breath. Elliot shared his sentiment. _Come on Liv, give us something, _he silently pleaded unaware of the fact Lanie Peterson was doing the exact same thing on the other side of the room. _Give us something to find the bastard._

"Ask where you are," Fin said.

"He wouldn't tell her that. Ask who he is," Munch suggested.

"No." Peterson spoke without removing her eyes from the screen, "She'll ask him why."

**_Olivia closed her eyes briefly. "Okay then -- why?"_**

Munch and Fin turned to stare at Peterson.

**_"Interesting choice, Detective. I was hoping you'd ask." There seemed to be a laugh in the man's voice._**

_**Olivia waited, expecting him to answer. When he didn't, she tried to coax it out of him. "Well, if you're so adamant about me knowing why, then how about you tell me?"**_

_**"Patience is a virtue, **_**O-liv-i-a,_" he said, emphasizing the last word especially. "I've been waiting nearly four years for this moment; you can wait til I'm ready to share." The camera zoomed out a little to include the man on-screen. "As an added bonus: the longer you wait, the longer you live."_**

**_Olivia cocked her head. She sighed, "You don't have a reason, do you?"_**

**_The man lifted his head. "Oh, I have a damn good reason, you bitch!" _**

**_"Well then spill it! Honestly, brave enough to kidnap a cop, but too chicken to tell her why. I'm glad I'm not you, because if I were--I'd have shot myself to save myself from the embarrassment! Seriously---"_**

**_Another painful slap ended her outburst. "An eye for an eye!" the man shouted, standing up. "You and I are more alike then you care to imagine, Detective Benson."_**

**_"How's that? I help people. You torture them! I don't see that as the same."_**

**_"You must be blind." The man had regained his composure. "From where I stand, you're much worse than I am. You are a murderer. I have yet to kill anyone." He leaned in sickeningly close to her. "How does it feel to know you'll be my first?"_**

**_Olivia attempted to pull back from him, but was unable. "Ecstatic."_**

Elliot held back the urge to destroy the television set. For some odd reason, part of him thought that by punching out the image he could erase it from actual existence.

**_The man turned and stepped away from her. "I'm not a murderer, you son-of-a-bitch!" Liv shouted after him._**

**_"Don't kid yourself, sweetheart!" He pivoted back towards her. "You and that bulldog partner of yours--"_**

Elliot pinched his eyes nearly shut. He felt even more responsible, now.

**_"--You killed my brother! An innocent man with a family is dead because you MURDERED him!"_**

**_Olivia stared even more ferociously. "Good! I hope I shot him right in the face! And that he slowly and painfully bled to death!"_**

**_Angered, the man stood up and kicked her chair, sending her crashing against a wall. She was still upright, but seemed to be masking pain. _**

**_"Worse than that -- you sent him to that hellhole to rot and got him killed because of it!"_**

"Come on -- get him to say a name." Peterson had brought her hand to her chin. Elliot glared at her, treating her muttering as a criticism of Liv in her nightmare.

**_"So -- in your own words you admit I didn't kill him!"_**

**_"Stop trying to justify yourself. It won't help you sleep any better. You are still responsible."_**

**_Olivia rolled her eyes. "You want me to feel responsible? Here's a clue: If I don't remember him, I won't lose a wink over him!"_**

_**The man opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped. Instead he grinned. "Oh, you think you're clever don't you? Nice try, but I don't fall that easily. No, Detective. I won't make it easy for you. You're going to have to come up with a name on your own. And until then -- enjoy the hospitality! The view is excellent, wouldn't you agree?" Not waiting for a response he continued, "So, any ideas yet?"**_

_**Liv thought for a minute. "Outside of any hard evidence, I'd have to say Bob Barker."**_

_**"Funny...but wrong."**_

_**"Oh, you liked that?" Olivia continued, "How 'bout Thomas the Truck?"**_

_**"Go ahead, waste your time. But know this. If your incompetent friends figure it out before you do -- You're just as dead." The man began walking back towards the camera.**_

_**"Wait!" Liv shouted after him. He turned back, listening. "Was it that big red dog from that Sesame show?"**_

The group watched as the man ignored her question and the screen filled with static.

x x x x x x x x x x x

The door slammed shut behind her, sealing the room in darkness once again. Rubbing the pain away from her arm, Emmy walked over to where the bruised and beaten woman laid nearly motionless on the ground.

"Olivia?" she said quietly, waiting for a response.

The woman slowly pulled herself up, letting out a moan or two. "Yeah?"

"You didn't murder anyone, did you?"

Olivia gave her a forced smile. "No."

Emmy walked over and sat down next to her. "Then why did he keep calling you a murderer?"

"I guess it makes him feel better to blame someone else than to accept reality." As Olivia said it, she realized Joe or whoever he was wasn't the only one who had a problem with that.

Olivia jerked with both surprise and pain when Emmy rested her head on her shoulder.

"Liv?" The girl asked once more.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not letting him shoot me."

Liv laughed, putting her arm around the girl. "No problem."

_**  
**_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Thanks to all of you who reviewed! Without you, I'd just give up hope and crawl back under my rock.

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**Chapter 9**

_Who the hell shut these doors?! _Elliot angrily threw open the doors to the squad room, before realizing he was the one who had shut them. He hadn't wanted anyone to walk in without him noticing and see the tape.

It was nearly midnight and Elliot had struck out on his last lead. He had stopped by the delivery service before they closed, and then driven around for an hour or two trying to clear his head and come up with new ideas.

The room was near completely dark. Only one desk lamp was lit. Munch and Fin were still here, burning their retinas staring at computer screens. They looked up with expectant eyes. "You get anything?"

Elliot scowled.

"Oh." The two had known him long enough to know not to press him on the matter until he invited them to do so.

Elliot turned and walked to the windows. "They shut off their cameras when they open up in the morning."

Fin cocked his head. "I thought the perp dropped it in the after-hours box."

"He did. Only it wasn't after-hours; it was sometime between 10 and Noon." Elliot spun back towards them. "Son-of-a-bitch put it in the slot, which should have been locked and wasn't, in view of the camera that should have been on and wasn't, AND NOBODY SAW A FUCKING THING!"

"Not even the clerk?" Fin asked, ignoring the tug on his sleeve Munch gave him as a signal to not go any farther.

"NO! Not even the clerk!" Elliot's face had begun to turn red again. "She was in the fucking BATHROOM!"

"It's okay, Elliot. We'll get him some other way." Munch tried to calm a little of the rage.

"Oh yeah? How?" Elliot had begun to doubt as to whether or not they were going to catch a break on the case.

Munch shrugged. "I don't know yet. But Peterson's got us and her men going through all of the cases in the last five years where the suspect died in prison."

Elliot looked doubtful. "Oh, yeah? And just how many are we talking about?"

Fin grimaced. "More than I care to look at. My eyes are fried!" Munch shot him a death glare.

"Where is she?" Elliot asked, glancing around at the otherwise empty room.

Munch gestured to one of the interview rooms. Looking back, Elliot could see a dim, flickering light reflecting off of the half-open door.

"What's she doing?"

"Not sure exactly. Said she was gonna try to narrow down the list or somethin'. She's been in there nearly three hours, though." Fin stood up and stretched before settling back down to read a dozen more prison death reports.

Elliot took a few deep breaths before grabbing a cup of coffee and heading back to the room. He tapped on the door twice and entered. Peterson was sitting in the dark, visible only by the glow of the television screen. Oddly enough she didn't seem affected by the long hours she'd put in that day.

"You don't give up, do you?"

Peterson looked up. "What?"

Elliot noticed she had headphones on. When she removed them, he repeated himself.

She gave a tight smile. "Not when I can help it. How'd you do?"

"Don't ask. Where are your guys?"

"I sent them to catch some shuteye. They're exhausted. We had just closed a case when this call came in. They've been going full throttle four days straight."

"Maybe you should get some."

She sent him an all too familiar look. He'd seen it a million times since working with Liv. "I'm fine."

He set his coffee down on the table, grabbing a chair and setting it down beside her. Looking at the screen, he groaned. "How the hell can you watch _that_ again?"

"Someone's got to. Someone's got to make sure we have all the information it presents us. And if I'm the only one who can half-stomach it, I guess I should be the one to watch it over again." She said, trying to hide the sadness in her eyes.

Elliot looked into her eyes. "How many times have you watched it?"

She shifted her attention back to the screen. Leaning forward, she hit a button on the VCR, and the image of Liv speaking froze. "Once or twice."

"How many times?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I just answered that question, Detective."

Elliot didn't unlock his gaze. "Munch and Fin told me you'd been back here three hours. That tape is less than twenty minutes."

"Then I guess it was more than twice." Noticing that he continued to stare at her, she raised her eyebrow. "If you don't want to watch, Detective Stabler, I more than understand. I don't want to watch it either."

He shook his head. "As you said: nobody does." He turned his head back to the television set, but quickly realized something he should say. "You know, when I first met you and up to a few moments ago, I didn't like you."

"No kidding." She rubbed her eyes.

"No, I know. I just wanted to apologize for that. And for accusing you of being a, well, uh, you know."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. If I had been in your position I would have done the same thing. And Dawes is an expert manipulator. I even hate myself sometimes when I listen to him."

"Yeah, about that -- why does he hate you so much?"

She cleared her throat. "So what made you change your mind about liking me?"

Elliot realized he hit a tender spot and didn't press any deeper. "I don't know really. Just suddenly you reminded me of Liv." He pushed the play button on the VCR and pulled the end of her head set out of the monitor so they both could hear.

"Well, thanks. But after watching this, I don't think I would have been able to keep my head in the game half as well as she did." Peterson slid down in her chair, a notepad on her lap.

Elliot turned back to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Look at her! She's in total control of herself and the situation-- she doesn't let him see the pain and with all of her angry outbursts he doesn't realize she's playing him! Not to mention she had the clarity of mind to send us clues."

Elliot's eyes flew open. "Playing him? And what clues?"

Peterson sped the tape towards the end. "There."

**_Liv spoke harshly. "Outside of any hard evidence I'd have to say Bob Barker_**_**."**_

"Okay, yeah. I admit it was weird of her to say, but what's your point?"

Peterson scrunched her nose. "Well, this is just my guess, but I don't see her as a person who would answer that question that way. She has to be talking about outside. Barker--she hears a dog, perhaps? And the Thomas the Truck? Everyone knows it's Thomas the _Train_. She's by railroad tracks. Or close enough to hear the trains still."

"And the Big Red dog line?" Elliot asked, catching on. "Is she referring to the dog again? In case we didn't get Bob Barker?"

"Possibly, but I don't think so. She left it til the very end, so its probably the most important. And she didn't say Clifford the Big Red dog, so I'm guessing Clifford would have tipped him off."

"Could Clifford be his name or his brother's?"

"Maybe, but listen to it again." She rewound the tape.

_**"Was it that big red dog from that Sesame show?"**_

Elliot smirked. "Sesame _Street. _And Clifford's not on that show. So, what: She's on Clifford Street?"

"She's a clever one. Told us a location without him even knowing it! Now we just have to figure out which town, let alone which state, she's in."

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Munch sighed as he wrote down the name and case file of another deceased person of interest.

"Man...don't write that guy down!" Fin protested as he viewed Munch's monitor.

Munch jumped up, alarmed. "Where the hell did you come from!?"

"Had to use the can. But seriously, drop that dude."

"Why?"

Fin couldn't believe his ears. "Are you frickin' blind? He's black!"

"So?" Munch realized what he was getting at, but didn't want to drop the argument. Any break from the monotony of searching was welcome.

"That piece o' shit was white! He said it was his brother! Dead guy oughtta be white, too."

"Are you denying the fact that there are such things as siblings who are different races. Twins even! And that's if they really are brothers by birth. Maybe they're just really good friends, or adopted! Huh?"

The wind flew out of Fin in a heartbeat. "Shit. There goes all the guys I ruled out." Fin plopped down in his chair. "Fuck you and your conspiracies."

"Yeah? Well my conspiracies say 'Fuck you, too.'"

The two shared a look that showed under normal circumstances they would have laughed, but they didn't have the heart to do so now. Munch wished for once he hadn't been right. Using his logic, they couldn't really narrow the list down at all.

"Shhhh..you hear that?" Fin asked of Munch, with a look of disgust on his face. "They're watching the tape again."

"I figured as much. Agent Peterson's tryin' to figure out Liv's secret message."

Fin rolled his eyes. "Secret message? You're disturbed, you know that."

Munch adjusted his glasses. "I am vaguely aware of that fact, yes."

The sound of a phone ringing caught their attention. Two seconds later, Cragen emerged from his office. His eyes were red and puffy. Munch secretly hoped he'd been crying. The alternative seemed much worse and much more self-destructive. "Hospital called. Need you to get over there immediately. Our vic thinks she remembers something new."

Munch watched as his captain walked down the hall towards the restroom. When he entered and could no longer see them, Munch moved quickly towards his office.

"Where you goin', man?" Fin called out, putting on his jacket. "Cap'n said immediately."

"I have something I need to do first." With that, he ducked into Cragen's office and slid in behind his desk. He did a quick inventory of all of his drawers and then crossed the room to check his cabinets. After finding the object of his search, he tucked it in his jacket pocket. He quickly darted out of the office and was a safe distance away before Cragen re-entered the hallway.

As he and Fin walked the distance to the elevator, he slowed and stopped at a janitor's cart. Quickly glancing both directions to make sure no one could see him, he dropped the bottle of Scotch to the bottom of the trash can.

* * *

A/N: As always, please review! It keeps me going! 


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys!!**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Munch nodded to the officer on guard, who shut the door behind them as they left Tracey Rudnick's room.

"Fuck, man." Fin was vibrating with anger. When they first arrived, Tracey had remembered that she was going to give them a name, but had strangely forgotten the actual name. Fin had stood there, silent, with his hands making tight fists. Munch wasn't sure if he had been going to hit the woman or collapse into tears. Fortunately she came up with the name again soon enough, and they could leave without seeing which option he would choose. Fin continued, "The woman's fried out of her fricken mind!"

Munch for the most part ignored his partner's outburst. "At least we have a name." _Joe. Joe, you son-of-a-bitch--you're going down._

"Much good that'll do us! No judge or lawyer with half a brain would let testimony in from someone half as stoned as she appears to be! Seriously, man ---"

"Would you stop treating this like a normal case?" Munch spun around, shouting in Fin's shocked face. "It's not! If you hadn't noticed, that was _Liv_ on that tape! I don't care what those shysters let in and what they don't! I didn't see one of _their_ own tied up in that fuckhead's basement, and I don't see _them_ out here trying to bring her back _alive_!" He swiveled on his heel, continuing on his way.

Fin was speechless. "Damn." _He's right! What the hell am I thinking?_ He hurried after Munch. He caught up with him at the second floor nurses' station.

Munch was having difficulty in catching someone's attention. "I know we're in the midst of a nursing shortage, but it shouldn't be this god-damn hard to get help, " he said quietly so only Fin could hear. Finally a red-headed nurse looked up and asked what they needed. Munch smiled casually and held up his badge, "Room 203 needs to have her morphine supply cut back."

The nurse thanked him, and went to check on the patient. Munch and Fin made their way back to the elevators. As the doors slid shut, and they began their descent, Munch turned to Fin. "Besides, this is now a federal case."

Fin didn't catch on immediately. "What are you talkin' 'bout?"

Munch smiled. "They don't play by the book. I don't think they even have a book. If they did, they probably banned it and set it on fire."

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Olivia awoke with a start. Emmy was still asleep on her shoulder. She gently lifted the girl's head and laid it softly on the floor. Her shoulder was killing her. Blinking into the darkness, she wondered what time it was. Or for that matter--what day it was.

She hoped someone had got her clues. Elliot was a long shot, but she knew it was likely that Munch would suspect something.

A loud thump echoed off the walls. She looked down at Emmy, but the soft, rhythmic breathing told her she was still asleep. Curious, Liv crawled forward on her hands and knees towards hopefully the direction of the door, suppressing groans as she went.

Disoriented by the complete darkness, she was unable to determine distance and subsequently bumped her head against the door, setting off another loud echo.

"Fuck!" Liv sat back rubbing her head before leaning forward again to try and hear. She was completely unaware of the fact that Joe, deciding to check out what had made the noise, was about to throw open the door right into her face.

"Aww, fuck!" Liv cried as she was flung backwards by the force.

Joe stepped forward into the dark room. "Well, now: up so soon? You must be ready for round two." He grabbed her by the ankle and drug her through the door. Liv flung her arms out and braced herself against the walls, stopping herself.

He tried to yank her across the threshold, but she held firm. He smirked evilly, "If you don't let go, I will make you, Detective Benson."

Seeing that she still refused to budge, he placed one foot on her abdomen nudging a bruised rib. Gasping in pain, Olivia released her grip and pretended to pass out.

"Thank you."

Hearing the incident unfold, Joe's accomplice came crashing down the stairs.

"Joe! What the hell are you doing?"

Joe dropped Liv's leg and grabbed the chair. "Get the video camera. We're going on ahead of schedule."

"But, Joe! Jesus...give her a break! Haven't we put her through enough yet?"

"Lennie--NOW!" Joe picked up Olivia's gun from the table.

Lennie hesitantly followed instructions. "Chuck wasn't worth all of this, you know," he murmured quietly.

Joe held up the gun, pointing it at Lennie. "Don't make me shoot you! He was a great friend to you, even when you didn't fuckin' deserve it and he was closer to me than my own fuckin' brother. I used to wish he had been and that my fucktard of a brother had only been my cousin. But if you don't fuckin' understand that, then you're of no use to me!"

Lennie held up his hands. "I'm sorry, Joe. I understand. Don't worry. I'll set it up."

As Lennie scurried about getting it ready, Joe lowered the gun.

Olivia laid motionless on the floor, smiling to herself on the inside. She was more than ready.

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Munch and Fin stepped into a mad house. All of the case files they had printed off were now strewn about their desks with FBI agents pouring over them, quickly flipping from one sheet to the next.

Elliot stood at the side of either Agent Collins or Meyer, Munch couldn't remember which one it was. His hand was placed on the back of his chair and he was watching as the man did something on his computer.

Cragen was standing in the center of the room, watching over the proceedings with a glazed look to his eyes.

"East Orange in Jersey!" Elliot shouted out.

The two newcomers turned to see Agent Peterson write it down on the board.

"No, wait! Scratch that one. Not close enough to the train tracks."

Peterson drew a line through her writing. Fin didn't move an inch, but Munch glanced at Elliot, then Peterson, and back to Elliot. He opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head as he thought better of it. Instead he addressed Cragen, "We miss something here?"

Cragen looked a bit lost, but knew enough to answer him. "Elliot and Agent Peterson discovered that Benson secretly told us her location. So, we're coming up with possible cities within the two states."

"Secret message, huh?" Munch turned to Fin, with an 'I-told-you-so' smirk on his face. _That's my girl!_

Fin shrugged in response. "What are these goons doin', then?" he said as he pointed to the agents shifting through the files.

"They're narrowing the list."

Fin looked at Cragen. "How?"

Peterson answered his question without looking away from the board. "They're getting rid of the ones who are neither married nor have kids. We're only keeping those with lighter-colored skin. Oh, and they're also checking to see if any of them were from any of the areas listed up here."

Munch narrowed his eyes, remembering what he had told Fin before their little jaunt to the hospital. "Aren't you assuming an awful lot? The guy could have been speaking metaphorically! Or, or ---" He stumbled, trying to remember his earlier points.

"I know what you're getting at, Detective Munch, and I agree with you whole-heartedly. But honestly, its time to stop pussy-footing around and start making assumptions. We've run out of options. So far, all we have to go on is Detective Benson herself." Peterson glanced back at Elliot who had shouted out another city, and turned to write it down. "What did the vic have for you?"

Fin grunted, smacking his hand on the table. "Too much drugs."

Munch rolled his eyes. "My partner is referring to the fact that, in a not-so-rare moment of negligence, the hospital staff provided our witness with more pain meds than she possibly needed. But she, after much struggle, remembered someone calling the guy Joe."

Peterson's eyes lit up with hope. "Joe, huh?"

Fin watched in disbelief. "You're not...you're not..."

"Not what?" Peterson stopped her writing and turned to him.

Fin shifted his weight, squirming under the stares from the entire team, including Munch. "Well, you're not worried about her reliability as a, uh, witness---that her, uh, testimony or, err, memory is, uh, corrupted?"

"Well, how affected was she?" Peterson asked, a weird grin on her face.

"Just a little dazed and confused. Little fuzzy, perhaps." Munch answered for him.

"So she was buzzed?" Seeing Fin nod, Peterson laughed a little. "Don't worry, Detective. I'd still take it even if she were passed out on the floor and sleep-talking." She turned back to the board.

Munch turned to Fin. "See? Like I said: No book."

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**Please leave feedback! You keep reading, and I'll keep writing! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry it took a while to update. Noticed I was starting to lag a bit on the story, so I axed some stuff and lessened the number of chapters left to write!! Thanks for reading! Hope to see more reviews! **

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**Chapter 11**

The squad room stood silent, staring at the list of cities on the board -- ten in New York; five in New Jersey.

One city struck Munch as familiar. _Newark, Newark--where have I heard that before? _Suddenly it hit him. _Tracey Rudnick was from Newark!_

Then he had an interesting thought. "Hey, guys? What if we've been overlooking something important?"

Elliot glanced backwards at him, and Agent Peterson stopped chewing her lip.

"The first victim. We've been treating her as a decoy, but ---"

"She _was_ a decoy! No way that sicko would've gotten Liv into that alley without her!" Fin interrupted.

Cragen held up a hand. "Wait, Fin -- let him finish."

Munch tried again. "She was a decoy, _yes_. But what if she was _also_ a target?"

Agent Peterson leaned up from the desk, mulling it over. Unexpectedly she slapped her forehead. "Shit! You told me straight-away that Joe or whoever he is called her by her name! We should have seen it! Damn it--how could we miss that?!" She spun quickly, barking, "Johannes, Anderson, Meyers -- start digging everything you can up on this Tracey Rudnick. Collins -- you take New York; Davis -- Jersey. Ring up the local chapters and tell them to take a peek around their respective Clifford Streets to see if they spot any thing suspicious."

"Like what?" Collins asked.

Peterson threw her hands in the air. " I dunno! Like, like white vans with writing on the side, perhaps. Or how 'bout a big arrow that says 'Missing NYPD Detective Being Tortured Here, Please Use Back Door'?!"

She gathered herself, and managed to calm down a little. "Sorry, but will ya just do it already!"

Collins and Davis both jumped at the same time and reached for the same phone. After a minor scuffle, Davis had to step around to the next desk. Peterson rolled her eyes in frustration, and then retreated into the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Elliot shouted after her.

She waved the question away. "Oh, nowhere! Just to bash my skull a couple times against the bathroom stall maybe. _Damn it_!"

Fin looked toward Munch. _Should we stop her?_

Munch sighed, a worried look on his face._ Nah, she'll be back. _

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

The bathroom was quiet. Only a few people outside of the Special Victims Unit remained on their floor, and the cleaning staff had long been gone.

Agent Peterson splashed her face with the cool water and then twisted off the faucet. Gripping both sides of the white porcelain sink, she lifted her head until she was staring at her own face in the mirror. She blinked her eyes shut, and then fluttered them back open.

"Okay, girl: get a hold of yourself. You can do this. You can find her. C'mon, girl. You _can_ do _this_."

She straightened her back, and nodded solemnly at herself once more. She pivoted and pulled open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the eerily empty hallway. _Or maybe I can't._

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

The sun rose, peeking around skyscrapers and over trees. It awakened most of the city's citizens and pushed them out their doors to begin another busy day.

At the Special Victims Unit, that busy day had already started long before sunrise.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Johannes shouted. "We got something!"

Elliot was the first to arrive behind him and read over his shoulder. Everyone else, save for Peterson, followed suit, pushing and shoving to get a better look.

"Hey, guys: Knock it off!" Peterson sounded tense. "Go ahead, Rick. Read it out loud, so everyone can hear."

Johannes nodded. "Okay: so I ran her name through the FBI database, looking for priors or if she had been a witness in any criminal matters."

"And?" Cragen asked, jumping the gun.

"And she was. She testified on her brother's behalf during trial six years ago. He was sent away for a botched burglary attempt in the Bronx and sent up river. I called a guy at the prison to see if we could possibly set up a phone interview. They hadn't released it officially yet, but he died of a heart attack two weeks ago serving 25 to life."

"Twenty-five to life? For burglary?" Munch sounded surprised.

Johannes explained. "Three weeks before his parole hearing, Jimmy Rudnick killed his new cell mate in a fit of rage. Cell mate's name was Charles Tannard, found guilty and locked away for the rapes and beatings of two teenage girls. Apparently, ol' Jimmy didn't approve of child rapists." He cleared his throat. "But, get _this_ -- primary on the Tannard case was _Detective Olivia Benson_."

Elliot closed his eyes, trying to remember the case. He sorted through the various images he had encountered throughout the years, and finally it came to him. He remembered Tannard fighting back as he threw him on the ground, and again as Liv struggled to shove him in the squad car. He had always claimed he was innocent. _But then again, they all do. And in his case, DNA doesn't lie._

"When was he killed?" Elliot asked. He didn't remember hearing about it, but after Tannard got the guilty verdict--they pretty much forgot about him. They had other cases and victims that had needed their attention.

Johannes scrolled down. "A month into his sentence. He switched cells after his first bunk mate threatened his life."

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire." Munch sighed. "Oh well. Can't say I'll miss him."

"Okay..." Peterson started. "Good work, Rick. Davis, see if you can find a brother to Tannard."

She turned around, nearly knocking over the familiar delivery guy.

"You work with Detective Stabler, right?" the guy asked. "That dude dropped off another one sometime this morning before Sheila opened up. Security camera was turned on, though--just like Detective Stabler suggested. Even brought the tape with me."

Peterson's heart pounded harder as her eyes dropped to see what he held in his hands. She took the tape and the package, handing the prior off to Anderson and instructing him to go through it until he had the damn thing memorized. She stared down at the package, knowing what was inside.

"Guys?" she said, glumly. As she held it up, everyone's faces fell. No one wanted to watch it.

**x x x x x x x x x x x **

Hours earlier, Liv sat stonelike, waiting for the camera to be turned back on. Unbeknownst to them, her captors had given her plenty of information. She rolled her tongue around in her mouth as she went through her clues.

Lennie shook as he walked back in the room. "Are...are...are you okay?"

Olivia pitied the man. He was just the type she would imagine to be a great accomplice. Easy to trust, easy to manipulate. But all good things have drawbacks, too. She knew he always hesitated, afraid of the consequences. No doubt he was scared of his own shadow. _Probably can't handle pain, either. _Olivia pretended to fake a smile. "Better than you."

Lennie looked as if he were about to ask her something, but jumped instead when he heard the stairs squeak. He quickly ran to his place behind the camera.

Joe marched into the room, having since donned his mask again. He glanced at Lennie cowering, and then over at Olivia. He tried reading her face, but she was emotionally a blank slate. He shuddered, slightly unnerved. _Icy bitch._

He nodded an okay to Lennie, and the red light signaled the camera was recording.

"So, Detective -- have we figured it out yet?" Joe walked in front of her with his hands and gun behind his back.

Olivia tracked him with her eyes. "Ya know what? I don't really feel like playing your stupid, little game anymore."

Joe stopped, whirling around and bring the pistol in her face again. "Is that so? Well, _newsflash_, sweetheart. This stupid, little game of mine is the _only_ thing keeping you alive for now!"

Her eyes shot daggers at him. "You said it yourself before -- you're going to kill me anyway, so why not save some time and kill me now? Go on, shoot me!" _I dare you to shoot me, you little bastard!_

"Kill you _now_, eh?" Joe pulled the gun back. "Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but if you're dead, won't _she_ be all alone? No one to protect her in the least from fates worse than death." He used his free hand to cup her chin. "And _we_ wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Liv jerked her head back. "_No_," she spat.

Joe let go of her face and walked over to grab a chair. He spun it around, and sat on it backwards. "Where were we now? Ah, right. Any thoughts, Ms. Benson?"

She smirked. "Plenty."

He sighed, sounding irritated. "On why you're here."

Olivia dropped her eyes to her lap. "In that case: No, not really."

"_No_? What happened to the _Great_ Detective Olivia Benson?" he asked mockingly.

"Great? Hardly." she sighed. "Truth be told, I'm not very good at solving puzzles. Okay, I guess, but nowhere near as good as Fontana or ol' Briscoe. If I were them, I'd have known before I was even abducted."

Joe leaned on the back of the chair, delighting in her admission of mediocrity. "Who are Fontana and Briscoe?"

"Oh, nobody. Just a couple of guys I've worked with in the past. I don't know about Briscoe, but Fontana sure knows how to screw up a guy's taxes." She shook her head, trying hard not to laugh.

Joe rolled his eyes and slapped her. "Hey! Stay on topic."

Olivia's face stung beyond words, but she had promised her self that -- no matter how bad it got -- she would never let him see her cry. She quickly blinked back the tears that had begun to form, and continued staring defiantly back.

"You're just wasting time, Detective."

"And you're just wasting air." Liv retorted, smugly.

"Enough of this shit." Angered, Joe kicked off out of his chair, sending it careening into Liv. She groaned in response. He strode over to her, grabbing a handful of hair and twisting.

Olivia did all she could to keep from crying out. _Why always the hair!!?? Damn!_

Joe motioned to Lennie to zoom-in for a close-up.

"Well, Detective -- we seem to be getting nowhere, here. But I'd be willing to bet your friends aren't as slow-minded as you seem to be pretending to be. And for that, I apologize to that little girl."

He released her hair, and she sighed in moderate relief. But with his other hand he brought up the gun and pressed it against her temple. Staring into the camera, he uttered, "Congratulations, guys. She's now dead to you."

The gun fired.

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	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Elliot was furious -- with Liv for egging the bastard on; with the masked man for touching her; with himself for not being able to stop it. When he grabbed her by the hair, Elliot wanted to scream.

And then it happened.

_**The man turned to them. "Congratulations, guys. She's now dead to you."**_

As the shot rang out, the camera jerked sharply away from Olivia, and the film faded to static.

"NOOOOO!" Elliot dropped to his knees.

Munch tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Fin ran for the bathroom, but only managed to make it to the trash can in the corner.

Cragen cried as he hid himself away in his office and slammed shut the door.

Peterson's heart dropped and her stomach turned. She wiped away the tears from her eyes and looked to the ceiling. The man's words echoed in her thoughts. _Congratulations, guys. She's now dead to you. _

She twisted her neck around. _ She's now dead to you. Dead to you. To you? Why 'dead **to you**'? _

Tears ran down her cheeks as she turned to face the rest of the squad. Fin had since returned to his desk, but the sick look hadn't left him. He was slumped in his chair and shaking his head, muttering softly, "She can't be dead...she can't."

She looked then to Elliot still crouched on the floor, holding his head in his hands. She began to ask him something, but decided against it and instead addressed Munch, who had his head resting on the window.

"Detective Munch? What's the relevance of Briscoe and Fontana?" She didn't want to ask so soon, but the tapes confirmed they had another victim to worry about.

Munch choked back a sob, and shook his head. "I don't know. They didn't even work together. Fontana took over after the older Briscoe retired. Briscoe went to work for the D.A.'s office and died shortly after."

"The older?"

"Yeah...His nephew worked with us for a while. But she said 'ol' Briscoe,' right?" He knew what she was after. He didn't like it, but he knew she was still working against the clock.

Peterson nodded sympathetically. "Yeah. What were their first names?"

"Lennie Briscoe, and...um...Elliot, what was that Fontana guy's first name?" Munch waited for the response. "Never did like that guy."

Elliot stared at them incredulously. Peterson knew she would feel the same way. She sucked in a breath and said, "Listen. I know what we just watched and that you need your time. But this is still _my_ case, and there's a little girl who _doesn't_ have any time to lose. My team and I can do this by ourselves if you so desire, but if you could help in any way, shape, or form we might find her faster. And get --" her voice failed. After taking a minute to compose herself, she continued. "And get justice for...for Detective Benson."

Elliot narrowed his eyes a bit. "She's a person, _no_t a title. Call her Olivia."

Peterson brought her eyes up to meet his. "Alright. To get justice for Olivia."

Closing his eyes, Elliot picked himself up from the floor. "His name was Joe."

_Joe. _Peterson turned back to the television and switched it off. She remembered what Olivia said, and asked Munch another question. "Did Fontana have some problem with his taxes or something?"

"No, no. He and his Lieutenant over at the 2-7 never saw eye-to-eye, so he retired after only two years there." Munch took his glasses off and wiped away the tears that had formed beneath them. Suddenly, he chuckled sorrowfully. "Oh, Liv."

Everyone else looked towards him. Fin was appalled. "What the hell, man!"

Munch explained. "Olivia's clue. She knew I'd get it. She's not talking about Fontana. She's talking about Joe. I told her about my cousin back in Baltimore -- the accountant. I let him do my taxes this one time and found myself sitting across the desk from an IRS auditor. She remembered."

Elliot looked at him. "What?"

Peterson got it. "Joe is Tannard's _cousin_, not his brother! Shit, now we don't even have a last name."

Just then, Anderson reappeared from the back room. "Boss, you're gonna want to see this."

Peterson dropped her arms to her side and followed him back. The three SVU detectives tagged along.

Anderson had the security tape up and running. He hit play, and a white van pulled into view. He paused the film, and zoomed in on the van. In dark green letters, _Leo's Lawn_ had been written across the side.

"Leo's Lawn? Somebody get me an address!" Peterson shouted.

"Tried, boss...but there's just a phone number. Ran it through the reverse look-up, but it's a cell phone and just comes back to Leo's Lawn." Meyers shrugged his shoulders in apology. "But the area code puts it in Jersey, near Newark. But then _again_, most of those cities on our list are basically suburbs of there."

Peterson crossed her arms. "Okay, then: find property records on _every_ lot on a Clifford Street from the Jersey list and look for any property that's registered to either a Joe, Joey, Joseph or a Lennie, Leo, Leonard. Get everyone else on it, STAT."

"Okay." Meyers jotted her instructions down on a piece of paper. "Got it." He disappeared through the door, repeating her instructions to the other agents.

Fin leaned close to Munch, whispering in his ear. "Can she do that?"

Munch turned around, peering over his glasses. "Can she do that? Are you _kidding_ me?"

"What?" Fin asked innocently.

Peterson overheard their dialogue and added in. "He thinks all of his years of government conspiracy rants have been lost upon you. Yes, I can do that. Is it ethical?--no. But I can. If you want me to, I'll explain it all to you later. But now is _not_ the time."

"Oh," Fin simply stated. Munch shook his head in disbelief.

"Umm...boss? There's something else here." Anderson called their wandering attentions back to the screen. He had advanced the tape a little farther, and zoomed in on the passenger side window. There was a second man in the vehicle.

"Okay, so both of them made the trip. We _already_ know there's two of 'em."

Anderson took a nervous breath. He zoomed it in further, and advanced the tape in slow motion as to not miss the shot. "There." The man's hand came into view.

"What is that?" Elliot leaned in, squinting his eyes. "Some kind of dark-colored liquid. Oil? Grease?"

Peterson inhaled deeply. "It's blood."

The four turned to look at her. She shook her head mournfully, but then abruptly stopped. _Blood? _ _Where was the blood?_

"No blood!"

The others stared, bewildered by her outburst. She jumped up and sprinted into the squad room. She grabbed the remote for the VCR and rewound the tape. She turned on and then muted the television and played the final scene back again.

The man's mouth moved, silently uttering those chilly words. But Peterson wasn't focused on his mouth; she was focusing instead on his hand. The gun moved backwards and then came the cloud of dust. The camera tilted towards the ceiling and then the static once again set in.

_Wait! The gun moved backwards and then fired?_ She played it back to the same spot and watched it again, this time in slow motion. _It was hardly noticeable, but hard-to-miss: He definitely pulled the gun back first._

By now, the other detectives had fallen in behind her. She played the scene again and froze the image just before the static overtook it. "Right there! There isn't any blood splatter!"

"Wha --" Fin started, but couldn't finish.

Peterson couldn't help but smile. "When was the last time you saw a headshot with _no_ blood spatter?"

Elliot swiveled his head to the screen. "So, she _wasn't_ shot? But he fired the gun -- at her. Why?"

"I don't know."

It was Munch's turn to ask a question. "But if she wasn't shot, where _did_ the blood on the surveillance tape come from?"

Peterson shook her head, as she repeated her previous comment. "I don't know."

* * *

**Man, (shakes head) You guys really thought I was gonna kill her, huh?**

**Fontana & Briscoe also belong to Dick Wolf, from the original L&O. By the way...I didn't even plan the whole Fontana/Briscoe first name thing. It came to me the other day in the shower, of all places. (Sorry, TMI)  
**

**Oh, and the tax/cousin clue came from an episode of Homicide: Life on the Street (Just an Old Fashioned Love Song). God Bless the Re-runs!  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for all the encouragement!!! **

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**Chapter 13**

Olivia lay on the ground. Her head felt like it was on fire. The gunshot rang in her ears. The scent of something strange filled her nose.

_I'm dead!? Well, this is unexpected. _She tried fidgeting around, but the pain was unbelievable. _Wait! If I were dead, there would be no pain, right?_

She blinked open her eyes. There was something sticky in her hair, but there wasn't any blood on the floor. _What the hell -- Blanks? Can't be -- the explosion would have killed me anyway._

She could see a pair of feet not twenty yards away. They came closer and closer, and then something grabbed her chair.

"Just get the tape out, will ya! Hurry it up!" A voice called out. _Joe? Yeah...that must be Joe._

"I can't!" Lennie cried in frustration. "It's stuck!"

Joe dropped Liv's chair back to the ground. She groaned in discomfort. "Here, let me do it. You come over here and pick her up, then."

A few moments later, Lennie set Olivia upright. Through blinding pain, Liv saw an opportunity. She twisted an ankle around, trying to loosen it from her bonds. _Oh come on -- fucking duct tape!_

It wasn't loosening. Frustrated, but not yet discouraged, Olivia tried a Plan B. Once again she pretended to pass out.

Lennie, glancing back at her, became frightened when he didn't see her breathing. "Joe!"

Joe was tinkering with the camera, trying to get the tape to pop out. Upon hearing his name, he looked up. "What?"

Lennie stepped forward to try and take her pulse. Before he got the chance, Liv threw open her eyes and kicked as hard and as high as she could. She could feel, and hear, the threads of the duct tape ripping. And then her foot collided with Lennie's face.

Blood spurted everywhere.

Lennie screamed as his hands went to his nose. He nearly fainted at the sight of his own blood.

Angered, Joe yanked out the tape in one swift motion. He stormed across the room and grabbed Olivia and her chair.

"Oh, Detective -- You'll pay for that one _later_." He began to drag her away.

"How? You _already_ shot me!"

He grinned, which disgusted her. "I think you -- of all people -- could imagine. And I didn't _really_ shoot you. Just a little skim to give the appearance of it, to get your friends off our backs. Wax works real wonders, doesn't it? Now we'll be free to have a little fun. Just the two of _us_. But there's something I have to take care of first."

Opening the door to the other room, he heaved her through.

The chair crashed against the wall, splintering into a million pieces. Emmy screamed in fright, and Liv wailed in pain before succumbing to the darkness.

Joe slammed shut the door, sliding the bolt into place and securing the lock.

He turned back to Lennie, still trying to keep his blood in his hands. "Hospital! Take me to the --"

Joe sighed. _Bitch._

He grabbed the tape and his accomplice, pushing the latter up the stairs, through the kitchen and into the garage.

**x x x x x x x x x x**

Agent Peterson stood behind Davis as he finished one city's worth of Clifford Street properties. There had only been one Joe, but they quickly ruled him out. He had been nearly eighty years old. Stewing, she called over to Meyers. "Update please."

Meyers nodded. "I've got a Joseph, a Joe, and a Leon. The first two are out. Still checking on the third."

Fin stood next to Agent Johannes. "We've got a Leonard in Hillside. Clean as a whistle, though."

"Collins?"

Collins began to answer, but Elliot beat him to it. "One Leo, but he's recently deceased."

"No Joes?"

Elliot shook his head. "There's a Jo, as in JoAnne, but nothing else."

Peterson rocked forward on her heels and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She made a quick call, and then slipped it back. "So...either Hillside or Newark?"

"Yea----Wait! Newark's out. Our Leon's in the cooler. Drug charges." Meyers stood up. "Is the one in Hillside still lookin' good?"

Fin glanced up from the screen. "He's still there, not doin' time, and is breathin'. I say he's good."

"That's what I want to hear!" Peterson shouted. "Okay, everyone pack it up. We're goin' to Jersey."

"Jersey, huh?" A slick voice stopped everyone in their tracks.

Elliot turned to see Agent Dawes standing in the middle of the room. He had his arms crossed and held a manila folder in one hand.

Peterson groaned. "Ross, what do you want?"

He handed her the file; a smug grin spread across his face. "I just came to solve your case for you. Obviously I couldn't just sit back and let you make a mess of it."

"Obviously," Peterson dryly mocked, opening the folder. She read over the paper inside, and lifted her head to look at him. "This guy's in East Orange. We already ruled that out."

"Oh, did you now?" Dawes leaned up against a desk. "Might I ask what piece of evidence led you to act so prematurely?"

Peterson shifted her weight, trying to come up with a reasonable lie. "We got a tip."

Dawes looked first at her, and then at Elliot. He raised his eyebrows in a smirk. "A tip? You're lying, Melanie."

"Why would I --"

Dawes put his finger over her lips to silence her. "I taught you everything you know. I know when you're lying, sweetheart. I _know_ you--every _single_ inch ---"

Peterson twisted his arm, spinning him around and pinning him to the desk. "Funny. I don't remember you teaching me that."

Elliot moved forward, gently grabbing her elbow. She released her grip on Dawes and stepped away.

"You okay?" Elliot asked her.

Peterson pinched her eyes shut. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Dawes jumped back to his feet, his face flushed. He started towards Peterson with his finger shaking. "You! I'm gonna--"

Elliot placed himself in between them. He looked straight into Dawes's eyes. "Hey! Back off."

Dawes shriveled under his piercing gaze. He dropped his hand to his side. "Fine. But if I were you, I'd be more hesitant before jumping to _her_ conclusions."

Peterson was again looking at the file. Elliot turned to see her begin chewing on her lip again. She handed him the folder. _Leo Morgan, 42 years-old, two counts assault. _

He looked up to see her staring worriedly at him. "Maybe --", she started.

He shook his head. "No. I trust Liv. I trust _you_." He handed the file back to Dawes.

Dawes scoffed. He leaned around Elliot to lock eyes with Peterson. "Ah, but do _you_ trust yourself?"

Peterson dropped her eyes to the floor. "Meyers, Collins, -- accompany _Agent_ Dawes to East Orange, New Jersey, please. Keep me posted."

The two agents nodded and followed him out the door.

Peterson cleared her throat and grabbed her coat. "Okay, guys. Let's roll."

"Um, excuse me, but does anyone realize what time it is?" Munch called out.

"Yeah, it's eleven forty-five. What's your point?"

Munch shook his head. "Exactly. We'll hit the noon rush hour. Even if we get lucky, we'll be stuck in traffic for ages!"

Peterson shrugged her jacket on. "Traffic, huh? _Cops_." She shook her head. "We only need to drive a few blocks."

Munch raised an eyebrow and cocked his head.

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

The helicopter touched down a few blocks from Clifford Street. Agent Johannes was the first one out. He turned back to offer a hand to the rest as they jumped down.

As soon as they all were clear, the chopper rose back into the air and flew out of sight.

"Fast enough for you, Detective Munch?" Peterson asked. Noticing the slight cast of green to his face, she added, "You okay?"

Fin rolled his eyes. "He's fine."

Three unmarked sedans pulled up to them. A dark-haired man stepped out of the lead car and walked up to Peterson. "Greetings. Agent Thomas."

The two shook hands. Peterson introduced him to the members of her team.

Agent Thomas nodded, and turned back to her. "How are we gonna do this?"

Peterson tilted her head, squinting her eyes to shut out the sun. "I have an idea."

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A/N: I will try and update ASAP! Please review!!! 

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	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter, but I'm going to be busy for a while, and thought this seemed like a logical ending to a chapter.**

**Please keep the reviews coming!!! **

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**Chapter 14**

Agent Peterson motioned for the others to keep quiet. She tugged on Elliot's sleeve and pointed at the van parked haphazardly in the driveway of the house next door. _Leo's Lawn_ was stenciled across the side. They were at the right place. She glanced back at Agent Thomas. "You _didn't_ see that?"

Thomas shook his head. "Wasn't there before. We swept this street three times."

"Okay," she smiled, "I'll believe you."

"Are you sure you wanna do it this way?" Elliot whispered, pulling her attention back to the house.

Peterson nodded. "We need to know where both of them are. If we act too suddenly, we may only get one suspect -- and Olivia, _if_ she's still alive, could pay the price."

She winced at her choice of words. _ If. Of course she's alive. She has to be._

She removed her holster and tucked her gun instead into the back of her pants. She pulled her suit coat down over the bulge and mussed up her hair. She looked back up at Elliot. "I sure hope this works."

"Ready?" Elliot asked as she handed him her ID Badge and holster.

She sighed, "Yep."

There seemed to be no movement in the house, as far as they could tell. The side closest to them had a few windows, but they all were boarded up. The garage, which jutted out from the house, would give them even more cover. Peterson sneaked back to the corner and proceeded to walk down the sidewalk. She glanced about randomly as if enjoying the sunny day, and the rest of the team glided along the side of the neighboring house, sprinted with their heads down across the gap, and crept along the side of the suspect's garage.

_Okay, okay. We're almost there. Don't panic. Just play it cool. _Peterson tightened her hands into a fist and then released them as she strode up the pathway to the front door. Elliot poked his head around the corner of the garage and nodded an _Okay_ to her. Taking a few breaths to compose herself, she reached out and pushed the doorbell.

Within a few seconds the door was ripped open. A man with dark hair and piercing black eyes surveyed her suspiciously. "Yeah, what do you want?" he asked, unfriendly.

Peterson gestured to the van. "Are you Leo?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "Who wants to know?"

Peterson's heart was racing. _His voice. It's the same voice. _She glanced about attempting to verify that he was unarmed. She also needed to know where the second man was. "Oh, sorry! Um, I'm Melanie Atwater from down the street. That big blue house -- my husband and I just moved in. I drove home from work just a few minutes ago and saw your van. So I thought to myself, why not walk over and ask about your lawn service. We've been looking around, but you know -- what could be better than someone from your own neighborhood?"

"Well, Leo's not here right now. I'll be sure and leave him a note." He shifted his weight against the door.

Peterson watched him carefully. She could tell he was mulling over the information.

"What did you say your name was again?"

_Oh, crap. _She needed to act fast.

Suddenly a voice nervously called out from somewhere in the back of the house. "Joe! We got a problem!"

The man's eyes widened in paranoid surprise. As he started to slam the door shut again, Peterson threw a right hook to his face, knocking Joe to the floor. She shrugged._ That works._

She whipped out her pistol and aimed it at his head. "Don't move, you son-of-a-bitch."

Elliot and the rest of the squad stormed through the open door behind her. Peterson pointed towards a doorway that opened unto a flight of stairs. "He's _down_ there."

Joe moaned as she kicked him over onto his stomach. Agent Davis cuffed him and leaned him against the wall.

"Stay on him." Peterson motioned to Davis and Johannes. The two trained their guns on Joe.

Peterson stepped out of the way as Thomas and Anderson hauled up the second suspect. He had a bandage covering his nose and was shaking his head in fright.

Munch and Fin searched the upstairs, while Peterson descended the steps to the basement to join Elliot and Agent Thomas's men. She turned to her right at the bottom of the stairs. In the first room, she saw the blood on the floor. She looked around and spotted the camera on a tripod.

Elliot stood in the entrance of a second room. It was empty, save for wood splinters and broken glass. He turned around. "She's not here."

All of a sudden he snapped into a run. Peterson tried to grab his arm as he shot by, but wasn't fast enough.

"Elliot! _Don't_!" she called, sprinting up the stairs after him.

Elliot tossed the two FBI agents aside and grabbed Joe by his collar. "**Where is _she_**?! Tell me _where_ she is!"

Peterson tugged on Elliot's jacket, pulling him away from the man.

Joe grinned sinisterly, and leered at him. "She's _dead_, detective."

Elliot lunged at him with such a force he nearly knocked Peterson off her feet. Regaining her balance, she made an attempt to stop him a second time.

Elliot hit the suspect again and again. Peterson reached out to catch his arm, but instead caught an elbow to the eye. She took two more blows to the face before finally wrestling the angry SVU detective away from the perpetrator.

The man rolled to his side and spit out blood. "Oh, you're going to pay for that. Wait until my lawyer hears about this. Assaulting an unarmed man in handcuffs. You'll go down for this."

Peterson maintained her deathgrip on Elliot, sinking her nails into his neck and arm. "Go down for _what_? Restraining a dangerous man resisting arrest? I doubt it."

"What!" the man screamed.

Peterson leaned over Elliot's shoulder, blood running down from her lip. "Just look at my face. You're lucky I don't charge you with assaulting a federal officer."

"I didn't do that! It was _him_! I _never_ touched you!" he shouted, violently gesturing at Elliot with his head.

Peterson grinned. "Now why would he attack someone on the same side? Someone helping to find his friend. That just doesn't make sense to me."

She turned to the rest of the agents. "Guys? You saw it. Tell me: who did it? Who hit me?"

They all pointed their fingers at Joe and nodded. Agent Thomas, who had just come back in from shoving Lennie in a car to see Peterson wrench Elliot off of the man, added, "Oh, it was _definitely_ the suspect."

"You see? We have witnesses."

Joe glared at her. "Even if they do _lie_ for you, it doesn't matter -- it won't bring her back. You'll _never_ find her!"

Peterson had to tighten her grip as Elliot once again tried to lunge at him. She turned him so he faced away from Joe. She put a foot out and pressed down on the man's stomach. "_You_ need to shut your mouth." Turning her attention back to Elliot, "And _you_ need to calm yourself."

She removed her foot and forcefully guided Elliot out the front door and into the sunlight.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Wow...been a really long time. Sorry about that. School and stuff. Well, please leave some feedback!! **

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**Chapter 15**

A loud crashing noise brought Olivia into consciousness. The wind wailed, rattling the house as she blinked open her eyes.

_What the --?_ She thought she was imagining things. Tiny circles of light seemed to dance on her face.

"Emmy?" she called, pulling herself into a sitting position. She was having difficulties moving her left arm.

Emmy slid over to her. "Yeah?"

Olivia looked away from the circles of light streaming through the wall and focused her attention on the girl. Her grimy face was covered in streaks where her tears had fallen. "How long have I been out?"

The girl shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe half hour, forty-five minutes?"

Liv nodded. "Okay, we need to get out of here. Did you check the door?"

"Yeah. It's not budging."

"Okay." She managed to roll over on her right side and push her weight onto her feet. She stood up and walked over towards the wall. _Ha. Peg board. And, a window. _She ran her fingers along the edge of the board, trying to find a place to pry. She found one where there was a divot in the concrete of the wall. Olivia pulled back on it, ignoring the shooting pains in her arm. The board moved a little, but wasn't quite ready to come loose.

"Emmy, get on the other side of this thing and help me pull. Okay?"

The girl hopped up. "Okay."

She followed Liv's example -- tracing the edge to find a few more fingerholds. "Okay, ready."

The two threw their weight back as hard as they could, trying to yank the board from the wall. The glue holding it to the wall was amazingly strong. Their first attempts only managed to loosen it a bit. Feeling temporarily defeated, they sat down to catch their breath. Olivia grimaced as she bumped her arm on the floor.

"How long will they be gone?" Emmy asked, fear in her voice.

Olivia shook her head. "I don't know. Hopefully long enough." She stood back up again. "I hafta get you out of here."

Pivoting to look back down at the girl, she asked, "You ready?"

Emmy sighed. "I guess so," she uttered, joining her at the wall again.

"On three. One...two...THREE!"

This time the board gave way, cracking into halves, and sent them sprawling backwards. The girl groaned as she hit the floor. Liv made no sound, however. The pain was so great, she couldn't even feel it anymore. Adrenaline had kicked in. She felt indestructible.

Olivia forced herself up, shoving the pieces of board away from them. She stepped closer to study the window. It was too high up to break with her elbow. She turned to look for something else that would be suitable. She picked up one of the broken pieces of peg board, but shook her head. _Too light._

"How 'bout this?" Emmy asked, holding up one of the legs of the smashed chair.

Liv smiled. "Worth a shot, right?"

With that, she grabbed the stick of wood and shepherded the girl out of the way. Olivia took a deep breath, gathering all of her strength, and then violently thrust the chair leg against the window. A giant crack formed, but the window didn't break completely. After two more hits, however, it shattered to pieces. Olivia knocked loose as much of the glass as she could.

"Quick. Hand me one of those," she directed, pointing at the peg board. Emmy carried out her command immediately. Liv dropped the chair leg and pushed the board through the window, setting it on the ground to cover most of the broken glass. A few shards remained at the top, but there really wasn't anything she could do about it.

"Okay, come here. You're going out first. I'm gonna boost you up, okay?"

Emmy nodded. "Wait! What about your arm?"

"Never mind it." Olivia fought the pain as she grabbed hold of the girl's waist and hoisted her to the window. "Don't squirm too much, okay? Keep as small as possible."

The girl slithered out on her belly, narrowly avoiding the glass. She rolled free and then turned around. "You, too. I'm not leaving you here."

"Yeah," Liv hesitantly agreed. "Let's see. Lay back down on your stomach and hold out your arms. I'll grab onto your hands. You're gonna have to pull, while I climb."

Emmy smiled. "No problem. Just be careful. Glass really bites."

The two did exactly as Olivia planned. It took a few minutes, and soon all but Liv's legs were out.

"Okay, back up. I got it from here." Olivia struggled to pull herself out. Suddenly Emmy gasped sharply. Liv tried to figure out why, and then felt it. A staggering pain in her lower back. _Just a few more feet. Come on._

Emmy grabbed her hands and pulled her to safety. Olivia looked up to see her knees. They were all cut up and bloody. "Oh my god. Are you alright?"

Emmy dropped her arm. "Ssshhh. You should talk. You're the one with the glass sticking out of your back."

Liv laughed in spite of their current situation. "Would you mind removing it then?"

"I don't think I should. They always say to leave it in and let a doctor do it."

"Well, I don't see a doctor around, do you? Besides I don't think it's that deep," Olivia said, squirming. "Just pull it out."

"Fine," Emmy shrugged. "You're right. It's not very deep."

As she yanked it out, Olivia felt a slight twinge but not much else. She looked down at her hands. They were sliced up as well. _Great. Is there anything NOT busted on me now? _She blinked away the thought, realizing the only thing she was running on was the adrenaline._  
_

Olivia rolled over onto her back, catching her breath. "Emmy, see if the neighbor is home, would you?"

"Sure." The girl dashed off, only to return ten minutes later without any help. "I checked five of 'em. No one."

"You're kidding," Liv sighed. "Welcome to the suburbs. Now if _only_ I were a thief. Okay, help me up."

Emmy stepped forward, grabbing her right arm and pulling her up. "Where are we going?"

"Oh, just for a little midmorning stroll. You know -- the kind where you wander around aimlessly and slowly bleed to death."

**x x x x x x x x x x**

Peterson and Elliot stared down at the broken window and the blood stains.

"She got out," Peterson whispered in amazement.

Elliot nodded. "Yeah, but where did she go?"

They walked back out in the sunlight, following the trail of blood drops to the road, where they seemed to vanish.

Elliot bent down, touching the dried spot with his hand. _Liv, where are you?_

Peterson's phone rang. "Yep... yep... _Really_?...That's phenomenal...We'll be there in five."

She flipped the phone back into her pocket and put her hand on his back. "C'mon. They found her!"


	16. Chapter 16

**I love all of you for your reviews!!!!!! **

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**Chapter 16**

Elliot was out the door before the car even came to a complete stop. He sprinted through the Emergency Room doors, pausing only briefly at the front desk.

"Olivia Benson?" he shouted, out of breath.

The attendant jerked her head up nervously. "R-room 122, but you can't --"

Elliot didn't hear the rest. He was halfway down the corridor. Nurses and patients alike had to jump out of his way for fear of being trampled. His eyes spotted the plaque reading 122 immediately, but it took a split second for his brain to comprehend. He skidded to a halt just feet past it, and quickly backtracked to the door. It was closed, but not locked.

"Just a minute," an unfamiliar voice responded to his knock.

Worried, Elliot grabbed the knob and pushed open the door. An older nurse stood beside the bed with her back to him. She was currently taping a bandage to Olivia's forehead.

Upon seeing him enter, Liv tried to give him a disappointed stare. As the tape held most everything in place, however, she only managed to look even more pitiful. She soon realized this and quickly covered by rolling her eyes. "God, don't you ever listen?"

Elliot shrugged as the nurse stepped back, satisfied with her handiwork. "I dunno. Glad to see you're, you-know..."

Olivia attempted a smile, "What? Not dead? Yeah...me too."

** x x x x x x x x x x x x x**

"I can't believe you even _want_ to know," Munch scoffed.

Fin shrugged, "She said she'd explain it to me later -- it's later. It seemed to work pretty well -- why can't we just do that all the time?"

"Oh...My...God...," Munch spat.

The two sat in chairs against the wall of the room where Agent Peterson was currently getting stitches placed in the gash above her left eyebrow. She winced as they started bickering again. Until now she hadn't noticed the pounding in her head.

She sighed before entering into the discussion. "Okay, fine. I guess I did promise to explain, didn't I? Well, for starters -- the reason you can't do that in most situations? Let's put it this way -- how many times do you have a name and area without an address? Your chances of that happening are pretty much zippo. And--"

"Ha. Why stop at names? Why not start profiling people by race, or hair color, or height, or cologne?" Munch interrupted, visibly bitter.

Peterson pulled her head away from the physician. "Would you shut up? I'm getting there."

Munch glumly bobbed his head in meager consent. Fin smirked.

"Alright, as I was saying, " Peterson began again, allowing the man to continue with the stitches. "It's not ethical. But with the Patriot Act in place -- "

"You can kiss your civil liberties buh-bye!" Munch burst out, unable to control himself.

Fin elbowed him. "Shut it."

Peterson raised a brow, but grimaced when she pulled out a stitch. The doctor let out a vexed sigh. "Sorry," she whispered to him before addressing Fin again. "But, yeah, basically."

"What?" Fin asked.

"Well, how many innocent people did we just investigate who had no relation to our case at all? Granted, in this instance nobody was really affected by it, but who's to stop me from going through library book checkouts or medical records next time? Nobody. Nothing's really protected anymore. In my opinion, I don't think it's right, but in this case -- we were running out of options. So, I made a choice and cut a few corners."

"Oh."

Munch rolled his eyes, mocking him. "Oh."

Fin glared at him.

Just then the door opened and Elliot stepped into the room.

Peterson saw him out of the corner of her eye. "Oh thank God. Would you kindly take these two with you when you go?"

Elliot allowed himself a snicker. "Okay, guys -- stop bothering the FBI and go see Liv. She's missed your annoying banters."

The two all but jumped from their chairs and scampered out the door.

"You know -- if they had any less dignity, they would have raced each other to the room," Elliot stated, watching them walk down the hallway.

Peterson smiled weakly as the doctor finally finished the stitches. He nodded, slightly frustrated, and exited behind Elliot.

"Yeah, no doubt."

Elliot glanced at her. "Sorry about the..," he started, rubbing his eyebrow.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've had worse." She shrugged, and then switched gears. "Oh, and, uh, Joe Mortanon has wisely decided _not_ to press charges against you."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think that was an issue."

"Well, we may have been enthusiastic in coming to your defense, but --and I hate to say it -- that was mainly for show. Some of us have been burned by that whole situation before, and if the shit hit the fan -- your ass is better than ours. No offense, of course."

Elliot shrugged his shoulders. "Of course." He paused for a moment, and then opened his mouth again. "Oh, and sorry again about the whole 'doubting you' thing."

She took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well -- I wasn't _exactly_ forthcoming with you about that. Dawes was partially right -- it wasn't _just_ my first case as SAC, it was my first time up against the clock. I've never _actually_ worked a kidnapping or hostage situation before. I should have been honest with you, but I let my problems with Dawes cloud my judgment. So I sort of deserved it."

Elliot looked a little hurt. He fought the urge to lash out at her. "Problems?" he asked before apologizing again. "I'm sorry -- that's really none of my business."

"Well...it doesn't matter, I guess," Peterson sighed, shaking her head. "It might be good to let it out actually. Would you mind closing the door?"

He glanced at her mysteriously, and then softly slid the door shut.

Peterson took another breath. "Okay, when I was first assigned to this unit, I was paired up with Ross Dawes. He sort of took me under his wing, so-to-speak. Things started out okay, but my third case was a really tough one to handle. I was inexperienced and tried to drink the pain and confusion away. After a few hours, and not-so-few beers, I wound up across town knocking on his door. I remember just wanting someone to talk to and to try and sort things out, but one thing led to another, and I'm sure you can figure out what happened. I wasn't exactly sure what to do, but then the next night he was on _my_ doorstep, and things moved too quickly to stop."

Elliot lowered his eyes. "Oh."

She shrugged. "That wasn't so bad, but things kind of got out of hand. A few months into it, we had a case and a guy who looked good for it. Except the evidence was circumstantial and we didn't have his confession. So Ross took it upon himself to retrieve it. I was the only witness, and backed up my partner. It bothered me, but I didn't really loose any sleep over it even when the guy died during a prison riot. Until, of course, I discovered he was innocent. Then it was difficult."

She trailed off, but swallowed and continued. "One thing it did do, though was put me in a position of control over Dawes. I had tried several times to break it off with him, but he threatened to report me if I didn't continue seeing him outside of the office. It wasn't until later that I found out he had entered a relationship with every single one of his female counterparts and had then gotten them either fired or reassigned. He'd gotten away with it as his superior was different in each case, except with me. So, because of that and the fact I knew the truth, he had to keep me around and my mouth shut. I dealt with it for a few months, but it just kept eating away at me. I couldn't take it anymore, so I went to our superior."

Elliot's eyes never left her face.

"Dawes was demoted, and suspended pending investigation. I probably would have been, too, except he had been hinting the entire time that I had been the one who forced the confession. But because Ross had been such a snake, and my suffering was more 'believable,' the boss realized I was telling the truth. Ross was so angry when he found out, he put my desk phone through the wall and then broke his thumb on my face."

"What happened?" Elliot asked, his voice suddenly full of concern.

She shook her head in dull anger. "Dawes took an unpaid leave for a few weeks, but then was welcomed back with open arms. The FBI just doesn't drop seasoned investigators. And the Bureau didn't want any scandal, so they threw a promotion my way. They said it was a reward for 'doing the right thing,' but I know they're just covering their asses. They don't want me talking. And I haven't. Until now. So -- this doesn't leave the room. Okay?"

Elliot slowly nodded. "Okay."

"So, I guess the moral of the story is: Never sleep with your partner. It complicates everything." Peterson sighed regretfully, and then slid cautiously off of the table. "What was it you came in here for again?"

"Oh, right," Elliot muttered, slightly distracted. "Uh...Olivia'd like to meet you."

* * *

A/N: Not much in this chapter, but thought I'd wrap up a few loose ends. One more chapter, I'm thinking. 17's a good number! 

Please leave feedback, though!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Wow...really long time, I know. Sorry. Senior year hits you and everything just sort of comes at once. I've not even been able to spend more than five minutes on my computer until now! I'll work on my other stories as much as I can and hope to update those, too.**

**This chapter is supposed to just tie-up some loose ends -- hopefully it does that. Please leave your review and let me know what you think!!! **

**For those of you who have stuck with this story from beginning to end -- Thank you! I love you! **

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Elliot pushed open the door and gestured to Munch and Fin. The two took the hint and said their temporary good-byes. They stepped past him into the hallway where Peterson stood. When Elliot motioned to her, she poked her head into the room.

Olivia was propped up against her pillows. When she saw Peterson, she smiled and waved her in. Elliot closed the door behind her and went to join his colleagues in the waiting lounge.

Lanie Peterson stood rigid with nerves. "Detective Stabler said you wanted to see me?"

Olivia pointed to the chair next to her bed. "That's right. I hear you're the one who cracked my secret code."

The FBI agent sat down. "Uh, yeah -- well I'm sure they would have gotten it soon."

"Eventually Munch would have, maybe," Olivia said, slightly shaking her head. "But Elliot? He can be a bit dense sometimes. Riddles aren't his strong suit -- he uses his head more for breaking down doors."

"And faces," Peterson mentioned softly, unconsciously touching her fat lip.

Liv started to laugh, but had to stop on account of the pain. "Sorry. I must look like such a wreck. I'm normally more fun."

Peterson smiled, grimacing herself when her stitches pulled. "Same here. We must look like quite a pair, huh? But I'd hate to see what I'd look like if I'd been in your place. I don't think I would have made it. You're one tough chick."

Olivia looked down embarrassedly at her hands as she fiddled with the blanket. "Yeah, _I _don't know how I did it either. It's amazing what you do when you have to survive."

"Well, the important thing is you did survive. And because of you, so did a young girl." She paused briefly. "And those two creeps are going to go away for a _very_ long time."

"Yeah..." Olivia trailed off, not even bothering to meet Peterson's eyes.

Peterson sighed, knowing full well what was bothering her. Without a thought or hesitation, she reached out and grabbed her hand. "Tannard was definitely _guilty_. DNA and piles of other evidence proved it."

Liv brought her gaze up. "Are you sure?"

Peterson nodded. "_Positive_. I sent my men digging through the files on his case and you did everything by the book._ Everything_ was solid. There is absolutely _no_ question of whether he did it or not. So, don't lose any sleep over the bastard, 'kay? He doesn't deserve it."

Olivia gave her a weak smile. _Too late for that. _

Suddenly she remembered how she ended up in the situation in the first place. "The woman in the alley -- Tracey Rudnick?"

"She's fine."

Liv's eyes brightened a bit. "Good. Elliot said so already, but I wanted to make sure he wasn't sugar-coating anything."

"Ah," Peterson smirked. "And you figured I'd cut the crap, right?"

"Yeah, sort of." Olivia looked down at the blanket again. "So...he tortured me because he felt _I_ was to blame for Tannard's death?"

The smirk left Peterson's face, and her head dropped as if to signal the affirmative.

"And he used Tracey Rudnick because her brother actually killed Tannard?"

Peterson repeated her previous motion. She then made as if to say something, but stopped.

Liv narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Well, it's nothing really. Just an opinion that doesn't need sharing."

Olivia shook her head. "No, I want to know what you're thinking."

Peterson took a deep breath. "Okay. It's just something I've been thinking about. There was absolutely _no_ way Mortanon could have known Jimmy Rudnick was dead -- they hadn't even released it officially when we went digging. So he must have only used Tracey to hurt her brother as much as possible, but if ---"

"If he _had _known he was already dead, he would have killed her. Is that what you're getting at?"

Peterson nodded slowly.

"Oh." Olivia contemplated this for a moment, before returning to her previous train of thought. "What about Emmy?"

"Huh?"

"Why _her_? What was _she_ to him? It's not like she could have deserved any of this!" Olivia weakly pounded a fist against the mattress, ignoring the resulting shock waves of pain rippling through her body.

The FBI agent shook her head. "From what we got out of the accomplice, she didn't. Just a victim of opportunity -- simply a means of controling you."

As soon as she said it, Peterson regretted it. "I..I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"No. I needed you to," Olivia whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How is she?"

"Ask her yourself."

As if on cue there was a soft tap on the door. Bemused, Olivia looked first towards the noise and then back at her new friend. Peterson rose from her chair as she called out, "Come in."

The door opened a crack and Emmy's head appeared in the space. The rest of her slid shyly into the room a few seconds later. Peterson crossed the room towards the girl, and nodded her farewells to Olivia.

"Wait!"

The woman stopped, and turned back towards her. "Yeah?"

"You never told me your first name."

She smiled oddly, "Oh. Uh..it's Lanie."

At Olivia's slightly curious glance, she explained further. "Well, really it's _Melanie_, but the last person to call me that got his face shoved into a desk, if you catch my drift."

Liv's face cracked into a broad grin. "In that case, thank you, Lanie."

Peterson smiled again and disappeared into the hallway. Olivia turned her attention over to Emmy, who stood quietly in the corner of the room.

"Hey there! How are you feeling?"

The girl returned Olivia's smile. "Peachy."

**x x x x x x x x x x x**

Fluffy, white snowflakes piled on the windowsill. The rays of the early morning sun spilled into the apartment, dancing as they reflected off of the snow.

The telephone rang, breaking the odd silence in the room.

"Hello?" Olivia's voice answered slightly out-of-breath after a mad dash from the bed room to the receiver.

"Hi!"

"Hey, Emmy. What's up?"

"Not much. Just wanted to wish you luck on your first day."

Olivia smiled. "Oh, well thank you!"

"You're welcome. Oop. Gotta go -- Linda's honking the horn. She thinks we'll be late."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye!"

There was a click as the girl on the other end hung up. Laughing softly to herself, Olivia did the same. She couldn't be anything but happy as she thought about Emmy these days. She loved her like a daughter and was ecstatic to hear things were going well in Emmy's life.

She had been placed with a new foster mother, Linda Bancroff. How that came to be was something that could best be described as fate. Olivia remembered the phone call she'd received just over two weeks ago -- Lanie had called to suggest Olivia meet with her friend Linda before bringing up the possibility to Emmy. Olivia gave her approval wholeheartedly after Linda had passed her "exam" with flying colors.

Sighing, Olivia slowly plodded barefoot back to her room to finish dressing. As she passed the foot of her bed, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She stopped, turning towards it, and proceeded to study herself in it. This was actually the first time since the abduction she could bear to look at herself.

Her left arm was still supported in a sling and a few more scars had been added to her repertoire. Barring those, she actually looked like her old self once again. Her bruises had yellowed and begun to fade; the shadows of guilt and sadness had all but vanished from her eyes.

She was sleeping again -- the nightmares had ceased. With the support of her friends and colleagues, especially her partner, Olivia had put those horrible days behind her, but she couldn't deny they had helped to reshape her life. She couldn't help but feel confident in herself. She was a survivor.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia strolled back through her apartment in response to a knock on her door.

She opened it to find Elliot standing on her doorstep.

He smiled at her. "Ready?"

"Damn straight." Olivia reached for her coat and shrugged it on. After three weeks of paid leave, she was more than ready to rejoin the working world, even if it did mean desk duty.

Elliot held out his arm.

Olivia looked blankly at him. "You're kidding, right? Elliot, my arm's broken -- not my dignity."

Elliot laughed as he dropped his arm to his side and pulled her door shut behind her.

A devilish grin crossed her face, and her eyes twinkled. "You ever do that again, and I'll kill ya -- two arms or not."

Elliot's smile grew even wider. "You're back."

Olivia raised an eyebrow and then followed him down the stairs and across the lobby to the outside doors. She was back and ready to do what she did best -- survive.


End file.
